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RECOLLECTIONS 


OF 


THE  LAST  TEN  YEARS, 

PASSED  IN  OCCASIONAL  RESIDENCES  AND  JOURNEYINGS 
IN  THE 

VALLEY  OF  THE  MISSISSIPPI, 

FROM 

■t 

PITTSBURG  AND  THE  MISSOURI  TO  THE  GULF  OF  MEXICO,  AND 
FROM  FLORIDA  TO  THE  SPANISH  FRONTIER; 

IN 

A  SERIES  OF  LETTERS 

TO 

THE  REV.  JAMES  FLINT,  OF  SALEM,  MASSACHUSETTS. 


BY  TIMOTHY  FLINT, 

PRINCIPAL  OF  THE  SEMINARY  OF  RAPIDE,  LOUISIANA. 


Forsan  haec  olim  meminisse  juvabit. 


BOSTON : 

GUMMING!?,  HILLRRD,  AND  COMPANY,- WASHINGTON  STREET. 


1826. 


DISTRICT  OF  MASSACHUSETTS,  TO  WIT  s 

District  Clerk's  Office. 

Be  it  remembered,  that  on  the  tenth  day  of  March,  A.  D.  1826,  and  in  the  fiftieth 
year  of  the  Independence  of  the  United  States  of  America,  Cummings,  Hilliard,  Co. 
of  the  said  district,  have  deposited  in  this  office  the  title  of  a  book,  the  right  whereof 
they  claim  as  proprietors,  in  the  words  following,  to  wit: — 

"  Recollections  of  the  last  ten  years,  passed  in  occasional  Residences  and  Journeyings 
in  the  Valley  of  the  Mississippi,  from  Pittsburg  and  the  Missouri,  to  the  Gulf  of  Mexico, 
and  from  Florida  to  the  Spanish  frontier;  in  a  series  of  Letters  to  the  Rev.  James  Flint, 
of  Salem,  Massachusetts.  By  Timothy  Flint,  Principal  of  the  Seminary  of  Rapide, 
Louisiana.    Forsan  hgec  olim  meminisse  juvabit." 

In  conformity  to  the  Act  of  the  Congress  of  the  United  States,  entitled,  "  An  Act  for 
the  encouragement  of  learning,  by  securing  the  copies  of  maps,  charts,  and  books,  to  the 
authors  and  proprietors  of  such  copies,  during  the  times  therein  mentioned :"  and  also 
to  an  Act,  entitled,  "  An  Act  supplementary  to  an  Act,  entitled,  1  An  Act  for  the  encour- 
agement of  learning,  by  securing  the  copies  of  maps,  charts,  and  books,  to  the  authors 
and  proprietors  of  such  copies  during  the  times  therein  mentioned  and  extending  the 
benefits  thereof  to  the  arts  of  designing,  engraving,  and  etching  historical  and  other 
prints." 

JNO.  W.  DAVIS, 
Clerk  of  the  District  of  Massachusetts* 


TO  THE 


REV.  JAMES  FLINT,  $k 

Salem,  Mass.,  Sept.  1825. 

My  Dear  Friend, 

These  letters  are  addressed  to  you  in  testimony  of 
a  friendship,  which  commenced  with  our  boyhood, 
w7ent  with  us  to  school,  and  followed  us  to  the  halls  of 
our  Alma  Mater — a  friendship  which  was  not  less  in- 
tense, when  our  duties  severed  us  wide  from  each  oth- 
er— a  friendship  which  made  itself  felt  beyond  moun- 
tains and  6  rivers  unknown  to  song,' — a  friendship 
which  has  survived  changes  of  every  sort,  the  wither- 
ing touch  of  time  and  disease,  and  the  still  more  fatal 
influence  of  differing  opinion. 

To  your  wishes,  to  your  kindness,  and  that  of  your 
excellent,  townsman,  endeared  to  me  by  the  remem- 
brance of  kind  offices  of  twenty-five  years'  standing, 
they  owe  their  birth.  I  may  not  be  allowed  here  to 
record  his  name.  But  in  these  days  of  refined  selfish- 
ness, I  may  speak  of  munificence  and  kindness,  which 
have  sustained  me  in  suffering  and  disease,  and  which, 
unsought  and  unsolicited,  pursued  me  to  the  remotest 
regions  of  the  West.  You  have  also  your  "  Man  of 
Ross,"  whose  name  need  not  be  given.  The  wish  of 
such  friends,  that  I  should  tell  the  story  of  what  I  have 
seen  and  suffered,  imposed  obligations  that  were  to 
me  as  laws.  I  have  made  this  humble  attempt  to  ful- 
fil your  wishes.  It  is  not  an  effort  of  book-making, 
1 


2 

that  I  now  offer  you.  I  have  striven  to  depart  from 
the  common  fashion  of  emptying  the  contents  of  one 
book  into  another,  and  serving  them  up  to  you  in  a 
new  form.  Whether  it  will  make  for  or  against  this 
work,  it,  is  not  for  me  to  say  ;  but  I  can  assert,  with 
perfect  confidence,  that  I  have  not  consulted  a  book  on 
my  subject,  from  the  commencement  to  the  close  of  it. 
Bearing  this  in  mind,  and  that  I  write  from  recollec- 
tion only,  you  will  find  an  excuse  for  unintentional 
mistakes.  To  have  given  it  the  finish  and  the  correct- 
ness, which  so  strongly  mark  the  productions  of  the  day, 
would  have  required  vigor  of  health,  leisure,  and  tran- 
quillity ;  and  you  well  know,  that  1  have  had  neither. 
That  it  was  written  under  the  pressure  of  disease, 
with  a  trembling  hand  and  a  sinking  heart,  will,  at 
least,  disarm  your  criticism.  Such  as  it  is,  I  consign 
it  to  you,  and  turn  on  my  weary  steps,  and  carry 
back  to  my  distant  home,  emotions  that  no  words 
could  express,  and  a  confident  persuasion  that  the 
friendship  which  has  been  so  tried,  and  so  uncommon, 
will  last  as  long  as  we  shall  last,  and  be  renovated, 
and  rendered  unchangeable,  in  a  better  existence. 

Praying  God  to  impart  to  friends  so  dear  to  me,  all 
good  things  for  time  and  eternity, 

I  am,  most  affectionately,  &c. 

THE  AUTHOR. 


% 


LETTERS 


LETTER  L 

Alexandria,  Red  River,  Oct.  1824 

Dear  Sir, 

You  are  kind  enough  to  suppose  that  some  details 
of  what  I  have  seen,  enjoyed,  and  suffered,  in  the  val- 
ley of  the  Mississippi,  during  ten  years' journeying,  and 
occasional  residence  in  that  region,  might  be  of  suffi- 
cient interest  for  publication.  I  have  been  so  much 
accustomed  to  deference  to  your  judgment,  as  to  sup- 
pose at  times,  that  the  capability,  which  you  supposed, 
must  exist.  Often  I  have  taken  up  the  task,  and  as 
often  it  has  fallen  from  my  hands.  There  are  such 
showers  of  journals,  and  travels,  and  residences,  and 
geographies,  and  gazetteers  ;  and  every  person,  who 
can  in  any  way  fasten  the  members  cf  a  sentence 
together,  after  having  travelled  through  a  country,  is 
so  sure  to  begin  to  scribble  about  it,  that  I  have  felt  a 
kind  of  awkward  consciousness  at  the  thought  of 
starting  in  the  same  beaten  track.  And  yet  I  cannot 
certainly  be  classed  with  those  writers  of  travels,  who 
travel  post,  or  are  wafted  through  a  country  in  a  steam 
boat,  and  assume,  on  the  ground  of  having  thus  tra- 
versed it,  to  know  all  about  it.  Nor  can  this  be  pro- 
nounced an  effort  of  book-making,  in  which  the  con- 
tents of  other  books  are  served  up  in  another  form.  It 
will  probably  be  my  most  obvious  fault,  to  have  con- 
sulted no  others'  writings  or  opinions,  and  to  have  re- 
lied too  much  for  interest  and  instruction,  on  what  I 


4 


have  myself  seen  and  felt.  I  have,  as  you  know, 
drunk  of  every  considerable  stream  that  yields  tribute 
to  the  Mississippi,  far  from  the  parent  channel ;  have 
traversed  the  country  in  all  directions ;  have  resided  a 
considerable  time  in  the  northern,  middle,  and  south- 
ern divisions,  and  in  the  discharge  of  duties,  which 
necessarily  brought  me  in  contact  with  all  classes  of 
the  inhabitants  ;  rso  that,  as  far  as  long  and  familiar 
observation  of  the  country  can  qualify  one  to  describe 
it,  I  am  so  qualified.  I  speak  not  of  the  vicissitudes  of 
disease  and  suffering  which  I  have  endured  ;  of  the 
trials  and  privations  which  I  encountered.  The  re- 
trospect is  too  gloomy  for  myself,  and  would,  probably, 
be  neither  of  interest  nor  use  to  my  readers. 
„  Another  discouragement  has  occurred,  in  thinking 
of  the  task  which  you  propose.  Had  I  originally 
contemplated  such  a  work  as  this,  I  should  have  kept 
a  regular  and  detailed  journal.  The  duties  which  I 
assumed  when  I  first  visited  this  country,  compelled 
me  to  keep  such  a  journal  for  some  years.  This 
manuscript,  together  with  many  others,  was  blown 
away  in  a  hurricane  which  occurred  on  the  Arkansas, 
in  which  every  part  of  the  house  where  we  resided 
was  penetrated  by  the  wind  and  the  rain  ;  and  in 
which  the  suffering  and  danger  of  a  sick  family  pre- 
cluded anxiety  upon  any  other  score.  It  was  a  detail, 
too,  of  religious  duties,  and  they  are  necessarily  so 
uniform,  that  a  page  or  two  will  serve  as  a  sample  of 
all  the  rest.  I  have  felt  the  less  regret  at  the  loss  of 
these  materials,  from  reflecting,  that  a  traveller  who 
copies  from  a  daily  journal  will  hardly  fail  to  copy 
much  that  is  trivial  and  uninteresting.  But  the  inci- 
dents that  have  remained  fresh  in  my  memory  for  the 
period  of  ten  years,  must  have  excited  a  vivid  impres- 


5 


sion  when  they  occurred,  and  must  have  had,  in  the 
narrator  at  least,  their  share  of  interest. 

On  my  return  to  my  native  country  after  so  many 
years  of  absence,  you  were  aware  how  many  acquaint- 
ances were  importuning  me  for  some  information  of 
this  sort.  And  you  are  aware,  how  much  the  feeble- 
ness and  dejection  of  a  constitution,  broken  down  by 
so  much  wandering,  toil,  and  disease,  endured  in  the 
wilderness,  and  in  those  sickly  climes,  disqualified  me 
for  such  a  task.  Nor  is  this  intended  to  disarm  criti- 
cism, but  simply  to  account  for  deficiency  either  of 
manner  or  matter.  For  the  rest,  if  in  the  following 
pages  the  feelings  of  the  writer  occupy  too  conspicu- 
ous a  place  in  the  view  of  that  severe  ordeal,  in  which 
the  square  and  compass  are  applied  to  works  of  this 
kind,  let  it  be  remembered,  that  these  pages  were  chief- 
ly intended  for  the  eye  of  friends,  to  whom,  it  was  well 
known,  such  would  be  the  most  interesting  parts  of 
the  work.  Let  him  that  objects,  too,  be  constituted  in 
any  measure  as  I  am,  and  let  him  have  been  placed 
in  the  actual  positions  in  which  I  have  been  placed, 
and  I  would  then  hope,  that  my  apology  would  be  fur- 
nished. 


LETTER,  II. 

You  are  entirely  informed  of  the  circumstances, 
which  induced  me,  after  a  laborious  but  secluded  min- 
istry of  fourteen  years,  to  leave  that  asylum,  and 
direct  my  course  to  the  West.  You  remember  the 
miserable  state  of  my  health,  and  the  hopes  I  enter- 
tained,- that  in  a  milder  climate  and  a  new  order  of 


6 


things,  I  might  regain  my  health  and  cheerfulness. 
I  remember  but  too  faithfully,  the  bitter  spirit  of  politi- 
cal rancour,  that  rendered  the  condition  of  so  many 
ministers  at  that  time  so  unhappy.  With  many 
prayers  on  my  own  part,  and  that  of  my  friends,  that 
these  evils  might  not  follow  me,  my  family  left  the 
land  of  their  fathers  the  fourth  of  October  1815. 
Toward  the  latter  part  of  the  month,  we  began  to  as- 
cend the  Allegany  hills.  In  our  slow  mode  of  travel- 
ling, we  had  had  them  in  view  several  days.  With 
their  interminable  blue  outline,  stretching  hill  beyond 
hill,  and  interposing  to  the  imagination  of  such  travel- 
lers as  we  were,  a  barrier  to  return  almost  as  impassa- 
ble as  the  grave,  it  may  easily  be  imagined  with  what 
interest  we  contemplated  them.  It  is,  I  believe,  gene- 
rally conceded  to  the  inhabitants  of  New  England, 
that,  perhaps,  with  the  exception  of  the  Scotch,  they 
have  more  national  feeling  than  any  other  people. 
We  had  broken  all  the  ties  that  render  the  place, 
where  we  first  drew  breath,  so  dear.  Occasional 
samples  of  the  people  and  the  country  beyond  these 
hills,  not  at  all  calculated  to  sooth  our  feelings,  or  to 
throw  pleasing  associations  over  our  contemplated 
residence  beyond  them,  had  frequently  met  us.  The 
people  on  our  route  constantly  designated  them  by 
the  appellation  of  u  back-woodsmen,"  and  we  heard 
these  men  themselves  uniformly  calling  their  baggage 
"  plunder."  The  wolf,  the  bear,  and  the  bald  eagle, 
were  the  most  frequent  emblems  in  the  tavern-signs, 
near  the  acclivities  of  these  mountains.  The  bald 
eagle  itself  was  soaring  in  the  blue  of  the  atmosphere, 
high  above  the  summits  of  the  first  ridge,  and  its  shrill 
and  savage  cries  were  sufficiently  loud  to  reach  our 
ears. 


7 


We  had,  too,  many  "  compagnons  de  voyage,"  ex- 
act  samples  of  the  general  character  of  New  England 
emigrants  ;  poor,  active,  parsimonious,  inquisitive,  and 
fully  impressed  that  no  country,  in  moral  advantages, 
could  equal  the  country  which  they  had  left.  They 
felt,  in  common  with  us,  their  love  for  the  dear  homes 
they  had  left,  increasing  as  they  receded  from  them. 
In  common  with  us,  too,  they  calculated  to  have  taken 
a  final  farewell  of  those  homes.  When  we  had  at  last 
reached  the  highest  point  of  the  first  of  the  three  par- 
allel ridges,  before  we  began  to  descend  a  declivity, 
which  we  expected  would  forever  shield  the  Atlantic 
country  from  our  view  ;  before  we  went  "  over  the 
hills  and  far  away,"  it  will  readily  be  conceived,  that  a 
family  which  had  been  reared  in  seclusion,  such  as  ours, 
would  be  likely  to  drop  "  some  natural  tears,"  and  to 
take  a  long  and  anxious  look  at  the  land,  which  contain- 
ed all  their  ties  and  charities.  We  tried  to  comfort  each 
other,  as  we  steadily  contemplated  the  blue  summits 
that  wrere  just  before  us,  that  we  had  a  world  in  Which 
"  to  choose  our  place  of  rest,  and  Providence  our 
guide."  But  we  had  already  wandered  far  enough 
from  home,  to  admit  the  full  truth  of  the  exclama- 
tion of  Attala  :  "  Happy  they,  who  have  not  seen  the 
smoke  of  the  stranger's  fire." 


LETTER  III. 

We  passed  these  hills  on  the  common  route  from 
Philadelphia  to  Pittsburg.  The  first  ridge  was  not 
very  precipitous,  and  I  should  suppose,  short  of  a  thou- 
sand feet  above  the  level  of  its  base.    The  grandeur 


8 


of  these  mountains,  so  impressive  when  their  blue  out- 
line just  touches  the  horizon  in  the  distance,  diminish- 
es when  you  reach  their  summits.  They  have  not  the 
pathless  precipices,  nor  the  rushing  torrents,  of  the 
mountains  of  New  Hampshire  and  Vermont.  But 
whatever  they  wanted  in  sublimity,  at  the  time  when 
we  passed  them,  they  more  than  made  up  in  the  diffi- 
culty and  danger  of  crossing  them.  I  have  no  wish, 
however,  to  fatigue  you  with  the  recital  of  our  exer- 
tions in  lifting  the  carriage  up  precipitous  ascents, 
washed  by  the  rains,  and  the  still  greater  exertions 
necessary  to  let  it  down  again.  We  passed  hundreds 
of  Pittsburg  waggons,  in  the  crossing.  Many  of  them 
had  broken  axles  and  wheels,  and  in  more  than  one 
place  it  was  pointed  out  to  us,  that  teams  had  plunged 
down  the  precipices  and  had  perished.  In  descending 
the  ridges,  a  winding  road,  just  wide  enough  to  admit 
one  carriage,  was  carried  round  the  verge  of  the  de- 
clivity, perhaps  for  more  than  a  mile.  In  this  case,  if 
two  carnages  met,  there  would  be  no  alternative  but 
to  retreat  to  the  commencement  of  the  narrow  way. 
To  prevent  this,  it  is  necessary  that  the  carriage,  wThich 
is  commencing  the  ascent  or  descent,  give  notice  by 
blowing  a  horn,  or  sending  a  messenger  in  advance. 

These  people,  who  drive  teams  between  Philadel- 
phia and  Pittsburg,  were  to  me,  in  their  manners  and 
way  of  living,  a  new  species,  perfectly  unique  in  their 
appearance,  language,  and  habits.  They  devote  them- 
selves to  this  mode  of  subsistence  for  years,  and  spend 
their  time  continually  on  the  road.  They  seemed  to 
me  to  be  more  rude,  profane,  and  selfish,  than  either 
sailors,  boatmen,  or  hunters,  to  whose  modes  of  living 
theirs  is  the  most  assimilated.  We  found  them  addict- 
ed to  drunkenness,  and  very  little  disposed  to  assist 


9 


each  other.  Such  was  the  aspect  they  presented  to  us.. 
We  were  told,  there  were  honourable  exceptions,  and 
even  associations,  who,  like  the  sacred  band  of  Thebes, 
took  a  kind  of  oath  to  stand  by,  and  befriend  each 
other.  I  often  dropped  among  them,  as  by  accident, 
that  impressive  tract,  the  "  Swearer's  Prayer."  I  was 
pleased  to  remark  the  result  of  their  reflections,  as  they 
read  the  tract,  apart  on  their  window-seats.  In  some 
it  seemed  to  produce  a  momentary  thoughtfulness ;  in 
others  a  smile ;  and  again  in  others,  a  deep  growl  of 
acquiescence,  very  like  that  which  every  one  has  heard, 
who  has  attended  a  council  of  Indians,  and  heard  them 
express  a  kind  of  reluctant  assent  to  terms  proposed 
to  them. 

In  the  valley,  between  the  middle  and  the  last  of 
the  parallel  ridges,  we  encountered  a  drove  of  more 
than  a  thousand  cattle  and  swine,  from  the  interior  of 
Ohio  ;  a  name  which  yet  sounded  in  our  ears  like  the 
land  of  savages.  The  appearance  of  the  swine  and 
cattle,  in  our  eyes,  had  an  unnatural  shagginess,  and 
roughness,  like  wolves ;  and  such,  you  know,  even 
yet,  are  the  impressions  of  multitudes  of  the  Atlantic 
people,  with  respect  to  that  beautiful  country.  The 
name  of  the  country  from  which  this  drove  came,  add- 
ed something,  no  doubt,  to  these  associations.  They 
were  from  "Mad  River."  ,We  were  told  that  the 
chief  drover,  a  man  as  untamed  and  wild  in  appear- 
ance, as  Robinson's  man,  Friday,  was  taking  them  on 
to  Pennsylvania  to  fatten,  previous  to  their  being  sold 
in  the  Philadelphia  market. 

There  is  a  considerable  tract  of  table-land,  before 
you  descend  the  last  hill,  and  on  this  there  was  a  pub- 
lic house.  Here  we  encountered  a  stage  broken  down. 
The  passengers  had  been  drenched  in  rain.  They 
2 


10 


were  a  company  of  tinners,  going  to  establish  them- 
selves somewhere  in  the  West,  and  a  printer  from 
Connecticut,  with  his  young  and  beautiful  wife,  about 
to  commence  a  printing-office  for  a  gazette  in  Ken- 
tucky. This  fine  young  woman,  who  had  suffered 
her  share  with  the  rest,  gave  us  an  example  of  natural 
equanimity  and  philosophy.  She  was  cheerful  and 
conversable,  while  the  other  women  were  querulous, 
in  tears,  and  out  of  temper  with  every  thing  about 
them,  and  full  of  all  the  tedious  complaints  with  which 
inexperienced  travellers  meet  the  incidental  disasters  of 
their  way. 

Our  journey  from  the  beautiful  Moravian  settle- 
ments in  Pennsjdvania  had  been  rendered  sometimes 
tedious,  and  sometimes  amusing,  by  the  company  of 
a  German  Lutheran  minister  and  his  family,  who  had 
been  sent  out  to  some  Lutheran  settlements  on  the  Big 
Miami.  He  wTas  recommended  to  us  as  an  amiable 
and  exemplary  man,  and  had  been  reared,  I  believe,  in 
Germany.  A  more  singular  specimen  of  a  clergyman 
could  not  well  be  presented  to  a  New  England  min- 
ister. He  was  a  short,  robust  man,  with  a  round  and 
ruddy  face,  with  a  singular  expression,  between  cheer- 
fulness and  apathy.  When  travelling,  he  had  con- 
stantly in  his  mouth  a  pipe,  in  form  much  like  that 
musical  instrument  called  a  serpent,  in  which  the 
smoke  circulated  through  many  circumvolutions,  and 
finally  reached  his  mouth  through  a  silver  mouth-piece. 
He  rode  a  huge  Pennsylvania  horse,  apparently  with 
no  consciousness  of  want  of  feeling  for  his  wife  and 
children,  who,  for  the  most  part,  trudged  along  beside 
their  waggon  on  foot.  When  we  arrived  at  the  public 
house,  and  were  seated  to  the  substantial  and  sump- 
tuous fare  that  is  furnished  at  the  good  houses  in  these 


11 


regions,  and  this  family  at  the  same  time  ordered  their 
national  diet,  boiled  potatoes,  sour  milk,  and  mush,  we 
could  easily  discover  by  the  longing  looks  of  the  chil- 
dren, that,  all  national  preferences  to  the  contrary,  it 
would  have  been  easy  to  persuade  them  to  exchange 
their  diet  for  ours. 

I  can  scarcely  hope  to  give  you  any  impression 
of  our  feelings  when  we  began  to  descend  the  last 
ridge,  and  the  boundless  valley  of  the  Ohio  began  to 
open  upon  our  view.    The  finishing  of  the  superb  na- 
tional road  from  Baltimore  to  Wheeling,  and  the  pres- 
ent ease  and  frequency  of  crossing  the  mountains,  will 
soon  render  it  difficult  to  conceive  what  a  new  and 
strange  world  opened  at  that  time  and  place  before  the 
imagination  of  an  unpractised  Atlantic  traveller.  In 
such  an  unexplored  and  unlimited  view  of  a  country  to 
be  our  resting-place,  and  the  field  of  our  labours,  where 
there  was  no  fixed  point,  no  shelter  for  our  hopes  and 
expectations,  where  all  must  necessarily  be  strange,  a 
country  to  which,  in  approaching,  we  had  constantly 
heard  the  term  "  back  woods "  applied,  melancholy 
thoughts  and  painful  remembrances  would  naturally 
arise  in  our  minds.    I  fear  that  my  family  and  myself 
feel  more  bitterly  and  painfully  than  is  the  common  lot 
to  feel,  the  gloomy  and  depressing  sensation  of  experi- 
encing ourselves  strangers  in  a  strange  land. 

There  are  some  very  handsome  villages  on  the 
slopes  of  the  hills  as  you  approach  Pittsburg.  Penn- 
sylvania abounds  with  them,  especially  on  the  east  of 
the  Allegany  ridges.  Some  of  these,  the  names  of 
which  had  only  met  us  on  an  itinerary,  astonished  us 
by  their  size  and  populousness.  Others  delighted  us 
with  the  beauty  of  their  situations.  East  Pennsylva- 
nia is  a  beautiful  country  in  every  point  of  view.  I 


12 


have  no  where  seen  an  agriculture  apparently  so 
rich  as  here.  In  the  permanence  of  their  spacious 
stone  mansions  and  barns,  the  Germans  seem  to 
have  thought  more  of  posterity  than  themselves ;  and, 
with  old  Cato,  to  have  done  all  with  a  view  to  "  pos- 
terity and  the  immortal  Gods."  To  us,  West  Penn- 
sylvania appeared  to  be  peopled  with  a  tall,  hardy, 
lank-looking  race  of  men.  The  soil  in  many  places 
had  the  same  hard  and  harsh  features  of  rock  and  hil- 
lock, which  characterize  our  landscape.  Except  the 
inhabitants  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  Pittsburg,  01* 
other  manufacturing  villages,  they  find  indifferent  mar- 
kets for  their  produce,  and  their  chances  for  making 
money  are  very  precarious.  In  healthiness,  in  the 
difficulty  of  procuring  the  means  of  subsistence,  in  ab- 
stemiousness, and  in  habits  of  rigid  industry,  we  com- 
pared them  to  our  New  England  people.  The  inter- 
mixture of  Irish,  Scotch,  and  Germans,  has  given  them 
a  singular  and  rather  ludicrous  dialect,  in  wThich  the 
peculiarities  of  language  of  these  several  races  are 
mixed. 

I  may  remark  in  conclusion,  that  the  only  disaster 
worth  recording,  in  our  long  journey  to  Pittsburg,  oc- 
curred just  before  we  left  the  town.  On  a  slight  de- 
clivity, we  came  in  contact  with  a  carriage  rapidly 
driving  from  town,  and  were  upset  in  a  moment.  But 
we  arose  from  under  the  pressure  of  boxes,  bundles, 
and  trunks,  alarmed,  indeed,  but  with  very  little  per- 
sonal injury. 


13 


LETTER  IV.— PITTSBURG. 

Many  travellers  and  emigrants  to  this  region,  view 
the  first  samples  of  the  modes  of  travelling  in  the  west- 
ern world,  on  the  Allegany  at  Oleanne  point,  or  the 
Monongahela  at  Brownsville.  These  are  but  the  re- 
tail specimens.  At  Pittsburg,  where  these  rivers  unite, 
you  have  the  thing  in  gross,  and  by  wholesale.  The 
first  thing  that  strikes  a  stranger  from  the  Atlantic, 
arrived  at  the  boat-landing,  is  the  singular,  whimsical, 
and  amusing  spectacle,  of  the  varieties  of  water  craft, 
of  all  shapes  and  structures.  There  is  the  the  stately 
barge,  of  the  size  of  a  large  Atlantic  schooner,  with  its 
raised  and  outlandish  looking  deck.  This  kind  of 
craft,  however,  which  required  twenty-five  hands  to 
work  it  up  stream,  is  almost  gone  into  disuse,  and 
though  so  common  ten  years  ago,  is  now  scarcely  seen. 
Next  there  is  the  keel- boat,  of  a  long,  slender,  and  ele- 
gant form,  and  generally  carrying  from  fifteen  to  thirty- 
tons.  This  boat  is  formed  to  be  easily  propelled  over 
shallow  waters  in  the  summer  season,  and  in  low  stages 
of  the  water  is  still  much  used,  and  runs  on  waters  not 
yet  frequented  by  steam-boats.  Next  in  order  are  the 
Kentucky  flats,  or  in  the  vernacular  phrase,  "  broad- 
horns,"  a  species  of  ark,  very  nearly  resembling  a  New 
England  pig-stye.  They  are  fifteen  feet  wide,  and 
from  forty  to  one  hundred  feet  in  length,  and  carry 
from  twenty  to  seventy  tons.  Some  of  them,  that  are 
called  family-boats,  and  used  by  families  in  descending 
the  river,  are  very  large  and  roomy,  and  have  comforta- 
ble and  separate  apartments,  fitted  up  with  chairs,  beds, 
tables  and  stoves.  It  is  no  uncommon  spectacle  to  see 
a  large  family,  old  and  young,  servants,  cattle,  hogs, 
horses,  sheep,  fowls,  and  animals  of  all  kinds,  bringing 


14 


to  recollection  the  cargo  of  the  ancient  ark,  all  embark- 
ed, and  floating  down  on  the  same  bottom.    Then  there 
are  what  the  people  call  "  covered  sleds,"  or  ferry- 
flats,   and  Allegany-skifTs,  carrying   from  eight  to 
twelve  tons.    In  another  place  are  pirogues  of  from 
two  to  four  tons  burthen,  hollowed  sometimes  from 
one  prodigious  tree,  or  from  the  trunks  of  two  trees 
united,  and   a  plank  rim  fitted  to  the  upper  part. 
There  are  comaion   skiffs,  and   other   small  craft, 
named,  from  the  manner  of  making  them,  "  dug-outs," 
and  canoes  hollowed  from  smaller  trees.    These  boats 
are  in  great  numbers,  and  these  names  are  specific* 
and  clearly  define  the  boats  to  which  they  belong. 
But  besides  these,  in  this  land  of  freedom  and  inven- 
tion, with  a  little  aid  perhaps,  from  the  influence  of 
the  moon,  there  are  monstrous  anomalies,  reducible  to 
no  specific  class  of  boats,  and  only  illustrating  the 
whimsical  archetypes  of  things  that  have  previouslo 
existed  in  the  brain  of  inventive  men,  who  reject  the 
slavery  of  being  obliged  to  build  in  any  received  form. 
You  can  scarcely  imagine  an  abstract  form  in  which  a 
boat  can  be  built,  that  in  some  part  of  the  Ohio  or 
Mississippi  you  will  not  see,  actually  in  motion.  The 
New  York  canal  is  beginning,  indeed,  to  bring  sam- 
ples of  this  infinite  variety  of  water-craft  nearer  to  the 
inspection  of  the  Atlantic  people. 

This  variety  of  boats,  so  singular  in  form,  and  most 
of  them  apparently  so  frail,  is  destined  in  many  instan- 
ces to  voyages  of  from  twelve  hundred  to  three  thou- 
sand miles.  Keel-boats,  built  at  this  place,  start  on 
hunting  expeditions  for  points  on  the  Missouri,  Arkan- 
sas, and  Red  River,  at  such  distances  from  Pittsburg 
as  these.  Such  are  the  inland  voyages  on  these  long 
streams,  and  the  terms  of  the  navigation  are  as  novel 


• 


15 

as  are  the  forms  of  the  boats.  You  hear  of  the  dan- 
ger of  "  riffles,"  meaning  probably,  ripples,  and  plant- 
ers, and  sawyers,  and  points,  and  bends,  and  shoots, 
a  corruption,  I  suppose,  of  the  French  "  chute."  You 
hear  the  boatmen  extolling  their  prowess  in  pushing  a 
pole,  and  you  learn  the  received  opinion,  that  a  "  Ken- 
tuck  "  is  the  best  man  at  a  pole,  and  a  Frenchman  at 
the  oar.  A  firm  push  of  the  iron-pointed  pole  on  a 
fixed  log,  is  termed  a  "  reverend "  set.  You  are  told 
when  you  embark,  to  bring  your  "plunder"  aboard; 
and  you  hear  about  moving  "  fernenst "  the  stream  : 
and  you  gradually  become  acquainted  with  a  copious 
vocabulary  of  this  sort.  The  manners  of  the  boatmen 
are  as  strange  as  their  language.  Their  peculiar  way 
of  life  has  given  origin  not  only  to  an  appropriate  dia 
lect,  but  to  new  modes  of  enjoyment,  riot,  and  fight- 
ing. .  Almost  every  boat,  while  it  lies  in  the  harbour 
has  one  or  more  fiddles  scraping  continually  aboard, 
to  which  you  often  see  the  boatmen  dancing.  There 
is  no  wonder  that  the  way  of  life  which  the  boatmen 
lead,  in  turn  extremely  indolent,  and  extremely  labori- 
ous ;  for  days  together  requiring  little  or  no  effort,  and 
attended  with  no  danger,  and  then  on  a  sudden,  labo- 
rious and  hazardous,  beyond  Atlantic  navigation ; 
generally  plentiful  as  it  respects  food,  and  always  so 
as  it  regards  whiskey,  should  always  have  seductions 
that  prove  irresistible  to  the  young  people  that  live 
near  the  banks  of  the  river.  The  boats  float  by  their 
dwellings  on  beautiful  spring  mornings,  when  the 
verdant  forest,  the  mild  and  delicious  temperature  of 
the  air,  the  delightful  azure  of  the  sky  of  this  country, 
the  fine  bottom  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  romantic 
bluff  on  the  other,  the  broad  and  smooth  stream  rolling 
calmly  dowu  the  forest,  and  floating  the  boat  gently 


16 


forward, — all  these  circumstances  harmonize  in  the 
excited  youthful  imagination.  The  boatmen  are  dan- 
cing to  the  violin  on  the  deck  of  their  boat.  They 
scatter  their  wit  among  the  girls  on  the  shore  who 
come  down  to  the  water's  edge  to  see  the  pageant 
pass.  The  boat  glides  on  until  it  disappears  behind  a 
point  of  wood.  At  this  moment  perhaps,  the  bugle, 
with  which  all  the  boats  are  provided,  strikes  up  its 
note  in  the  distance  over  the  water.  These  scenes, 
and  these  notes,  echoing  from  the  bluffs  of  the  beauti- 
ful Ohio,  have  a  charm  for  the  imagination,  which, 
although  I  have  heard  a  thousand  times  repeated,  and 
at  all  hours,  and  in  all  positions,  is  even  to  me  always 
new,  and  always  delightful.  No  wonder  that  the 
young,  who  are  reared  in  these  remote  regions,  with 
that  restless  curiosity  which  is  fostered  by  solitude 
and  silence,  who  witness  scenes  like  this  so  fre- 
quently, no  wonder  that  the  severe  and  unremitting 
labours  of  agriculture,  performed  directly  in  the  view 
of  such  scenes,  should  become  tasteless  and  irksome. 
No  wonder  that  the  young  along  the  banks  of  the 
great  streams,  should  detest  the  labours  of  the  field, 
and  embrace  every  opportunity,  either  openly,  or  if 
minors,  covertly,  to  escape  and  devote  themselves  to 
tile  pernicious  employment  of  boating.  And  in  this 
view  we  may  account  for  the  detestation  of  the  inhab- 
itants along  these  great  streams  towards  steam-boats, 
which  are  every  day  diminishing  the  number  of  small 
boats  and  boatmen,  and  which  have  already  withdrawn 
from  the  western  waters,  probably  ten  thousand  from 
that  employment.  And  yet  with  all  these  seductions 
for  the  eye  and  the  imagination,  no  life  is  so  slavish, 
none  so  precarious  and  dangerous.  In  no  employment 
do  the  hands  so  wear  out.    After  the  lapse  of  so  very 


17 


short  a  period  since  these  waters  have  been,  navigated 
in  this  way,  at  every  bend,  and  every  high  point  of  the 
river,  you  are  almost  sure  to  see,  as  you  slop  for  a  mo- 
ment, indications  of  the  "  narrow  house  the  rude 
monument,  the  coarse  memorial;  carved  on  an  adjoin- 
ing tree  by  a  brother  boatman,  which  marks  that  an 
exhausted  boatman  there  yielded  his  breath,  and  was 
buried. 

Pittsburg  is  a  considerable  town,  generally  built  of 
brick,  and  has  been  so  often  described  as  to  render  un- 
interesting any  new  attempt  of  the  kind.  The  site 
is  romantic  and  delightful.  It  is  well  known  as  a 
manufacturing  place,  and  once  almost  supplied  the 
lower  country  with  a  variety  of  the  most  necessary 
and  important  manufactures.  But  the  wealth,  busi- 
ness, and  glory  of  this  place  are  fast  passing  away, 
transferred  to  Cincinnati,  to  Louisville,  and  other  pla- 
ces on  the  Ohio.  Various  causes  have  concurred  to 
this  result ;  but  especially  the  multiplication  of  steam- 
boats, and  the  consequent  facility  of  communication 
with  the  Atlantic  ports  by  the  Mississippi.  There  is  lit- 
tle prospect  of  the  reverse  of  this  order  of  things.  The 
national  road,  terminating  at  Wheeling,  contributes  to 
this  decay  of  Pittsburg.  Her  decline  is  not  much  re- 
gretted, for  she  used  to  fatten  on  the  spoils  of  the  poor 
emigrants  that  swarmed  to  this  place.  Accustomed 
to  scenes  of  parsimony,  misery,  and  beggary,  and  to 
transient  and  unprincipled  men,  occupied  in  the  har- 
dening pursuits  of  manufactures,  she  had  been  brought 
to  think  all  men  rogues,  misery  the  natural  order  of 
things,  and  of  course  little  entitled  to  commiseration, 
and  every  way  of  getting  money  fair  game.  The 
traveller  was  too  apt  to  think  of  her  as  immersed  in 
"  sin  and  sea-coal for  the  constant  use  of  fossil  coal, 

BIB' 3  yh 


18 


both  for  culinary  and  manufacturing  purposes,  has 
given  a  sooty  and  funereal  aspect  even  to  the  buildings5; 
of  course  much  hospitality  could  not  be  expected 
here.  We  were  introduced,  however,  to  the  family  of 
a  minister,  whose  stately  mansion  and  fine  furniture, 
gave  us  an  impression  of  the  opulence,  if  not  of  the 
hospitality  of  the  owner.  But  a  New  England  minis- 
ter expects  in  vain,  in  these  regions,  the  simple,  unaf- 
fected, and  ample  hospitality,  which  constitutes  so  de- 
lightful a  trait  in  the  character  of  the  clergymen  of 
that  country.  I  need  only  add,  that  the  charges  of 
the  hotel  where  we  lodged,  were,  as  I  believe,  double 
of  what  would  have  been  charged  for  the  same  fare 
at  the  same  kind  of  house  in  Boston.  It  has  been 
said,  that  the  decay  of  the  business  of  this  place  has 
been  connected  with  its  moral  improvement,  and  that 
in  moral  and  humane  institutions,  and  in  the  urbanity 
and  kindness  of  its  manners,  it  now  holds  a  respectable 
competition  with  other  places.  That  this  order  of 
things  may  go  on  increasing  is  "  a  consummation  de- 
voutly to  be  wished." 


LETTER  V. 

Our  first  river  voyage  commenced  in  the  early  part 
of  November,  on  a  beautiful  autumnal  afternoon.  We 
had  waited  a  considerable  time  for  the  rising  of  the 
river,  for  as  yet  no  boat  of  any  considerable  draught 
of  water  was  able  to  descend.  We  had  become  im- 
patient of  remaining  here,  and  embarked  in  a  very 
small  flat-boat,  laden  with  factory  cottons  and  cutlery. 
The  owner  was  from  Dorchester  in  Massachusetts, 
and  probably  his  whole  capital  was  embarked  on  this 


19 


bottom.  He  was  as  little  experienced  in  this  mode  of 
navigation  as  we  were.  Our  notions  of  what  we  had 
to  expect  on  this  voyage  were  formed  from  contem- 
plating the  gentle  and  equable  current  of  this  beautiful 
river,  and  resulted  in  the  persuasion,  that  the  whole  trip 
would  be  an  excursion  of  pleasure  and  entire  safety. 
Hundreds  of  emigrants  from  the  eastern  country  com- 
mence this  descent  equally  inexperienced. 

About  one  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  we  began  to 
float  down  the  Allegany,  and  in  a  few  moments  we 
were  moving  on  the  broad  bosom  of  the  Ohio,  at  the 
point  of  junction  nearly  a  mile  in  width.     The  au- 
tumns of  every  part  of  our  country  are  beautiful,  but 
those  of  the  western  country  are  pre-eminently  so. 
Nothing  resulting  from  beauty  of  sky,  temperature  of 
air,  and  charm  of  scenery,  can  surpass  what  was  now  i 
above  us  and  around  us.     The  bright  sun,  the  mild 
blue  sky,  a  bland  feeling  of  the  atmosphere,  the  varie- 
gated foliage  of  the  huge  sycamores  which  line  the 
banks  of  the  Ohio,  their  leaves  turning  red  and  yel- 
low, and  finely  contrasting  with  the  brilliant  white 
of  their  branches,  the  unruffled  stream,  which  reflect- 
ed in  its  bosom  the  beautiful  surrounding  nature, — all 
things  conspired  to  give  us  very  high  anticipations  from 
being  wafted  down  "  la  belle  riviere."    We  were  con- 
gratulating each  other,  that  this  was  indeed  worth  ail 
the  toils  and  privations,  we  had  endured  in  arriving  at. 
the  Ohio.    But,  alas  for  human  calculations  !  While 
we  were  noticing  every  object  on  the  banks  with  such 
intense  interest,  while  the  owner  was  seated  amidst  his 
goods  and  wares,  indulging  probably  in  golden  dreams 
of  easy,  certain,  and  great  profits,  while  one  of  the 
company  that  you  know  of,  was  completely  given  up 
to  reverie,  at  which  you  have  so  often  smiled, — on  a 


20 


sudden  the  roar  of  the  river  admonished  us  that  we 
were  near  a  ripple.  We  had  with  us  that  famous 
book  u  The  Navigator,"  as  it  is  called.  The  boat  be- 
gan to  exchange  its  gentle  and  imperceptible  advance 
for  a  furious  progress.  Soon  after,  it  gave  a  violent 
bounce  against  a  rock  on  one  side,  which  threatened 
to  capsize  it.  On  recovering  her  level,  she  immedi- 
diately  bounced  on  the  opposite  side,  and  that  in  its 
turn  was  keeled  up.  Instead  of  running  to  the  oar, 
we  ran  to  look  in  the  "  Navigator."  The  owner  was 
pale.  The  children  shrieked.  The  hard  ware  came 
tumbling  upon  us  from  the  shelves,  and  Mrs.  F,  was 
almost  literally  buried  amidst  locks,  latches,  knives, 
and  pieces  of  domestic  cotton.  The  gentle  river  had 
not  intended  in  this  first  alarm  to  swallow  us  up,  but 
only  to  give  us  timely  warning,  that  too  much  tran- 
quillity and  enjoyment  are  not  to  be  expected  here. 
We  floated  off  from  this  ripple,  which  bore  the  omi- 
nous name  of  "  Dead  Man's,"  into  the  smooth  water, 
with  no  other  injury  than  the  chaotic  state  of  our 
lading.  But  from  that  moment,  adieu  to  our  poetic 
dreams  of  floating  down  the  beautiful  river  in  such 
perfect  safety.  We  were  continually  running  to  the 
"  Navigator,"  astonished  to  find  how  full  the  river  was, 
of  chutes  and  ripples. 

I  might  easily  record  a  succession  of  disasters  of  a 
like  kind,  sufficiently  formidable  to  such  fresh- water 
sailors  as  we  were,  without  a  single  pilot  or  waterman 
on  board.  Sometimes  we  were  jostling  on  the  rocks 
in  the  ripples.  Sometimes  we  were  driven  furiously 
along  the  chutes,  and  sometimes  we  stuck  fast  on  the 
sand-bars.  One  night  we  lay  grounded  on  a  rock  in 
the  middle  of  the  river,  with  the  roar  of  a  ripple  in 
hearing,  just  below  us.    Our  fear  was,  that  the  river, 


21 


which  was  rising,  would  float  us  over  these  dangerous 
falls  in  the  night ;  and  you  will  easily  imagine,  that  for 
this  night  we  gave  "  no  sleep  to  our  eyes." 

At  Beaver  in  Pennsylvania  we  exchanged  this  dan- 
gerous and  tedious  mode  of  conveyance,  for  one  more 
suited  to  the  present  stage  of  the  water.  We  purchas- 
ed a  large  skiff.  It  has  the  advantage  of  being  able  to 
run  in  any  stage  of  the  water,  without  grounding,  and 
is  perfectly  safe.  In  fine  weather  it  furnishes  a  very 
pleasant  way  of  descending  the  river.  But  we  soon 
found  that  we  had  exchanged  one  inconvenience  for 
another.  We  could  look  round  us  indeed  ;  we  went 
forward  securely.  But  at  one  time  the  sun  beat  in- 
tensely upon  us.  At  another  we  suffered  from  fogs 
and  rains.  At  every  landing,  too,  where  we  stopped 
to  spend  the  night,  and  find  lodging,  we  were  obliged 
to  remove  every  article  of  lading  from  the  boat,  and 
not  too  well  assured,  that  some  of  the  numerous  ad- 
venturers would  not  take  away  our  boat  during  the 
night. 

In  this  manner  we  floated  by  many  thriving  villa- 
ges, that  had  just  risen  in  the  wilderness,  and  many 
indications  of  commencing  settlements,  The  Ohio 
broadened  evidently  at  every  advancing  bend.  The 
bottoms  diverged  farther  from  the  shores,  and  the  fer- 
tility of  the  soil  increased.  We  remarked  a  curious 
but  uniform  circumstance,  which  applies  equally  to 
the  Mississippi,  and  all  its  tributaries.  It  is,  that  with 
few  exceptions,  where  the  bluffs  of  the  river  rise  im- 
mediately from  the  shore  on  the  one  hand,  the  bottoms 
broaden  on  the  other  ;  and  when  the  bluff  commences 
at  the  termination  of  the  bottom,  that  commences  on 
the  opposite  shore.  Thus  they  regularly  alternate 
with  each  other. 


22 


At  Steubenville,  in  Ohio,  we  remarked  that  the  river 
seemed  to  develope  its  character  for  broadness  and 
fertility.  Here  we  first  began  to  notice  the  pawpaw, 
the  persimon,  and  other  new  and  beautiful  shrubs  and 
plants,  peculiar  to  this  climate.  Here,  too,  we  saw 
the  most  obvious  proofs  of  the  advance  of  this  most 
flourishing  country,  in  population  and  improvement, 
the  more  entire  developement  of  which  has  been  so 
astonishing  within  the  last  ten  years.  Where  we  now 
saw  a  large  village,  with  the  spires  of  churches,  an 
entire  street  of  large  brick  buildings,  manufactories, 
a  market-house,  and  the  bustle  of  a  busy  town,  only 
eighteen  years  before,  there  had  been  a  solid  and  corn- 
pact  forest  of  vast  sycamores  and  beeches.  They 
numbered  already  in  this  town  four  thousand  inhab- 
itants. 

We  were  almost  daily  passing  the  mouths  of  boat- 
able  streams,  which  furnish  lateral  canals,  some  of 
them  hundreds  of  miles  in  extent,  into  the  interior,  on 
which  every  year  new  towns  and  villages  were  spring- 
ing up,  and  pouring  the  products  of  cultivation  into  the 
Ohio.  You  understand,  that  it  is  not  my  intention  to 
go  into  those  details,  which  are  best  furnished  by  ge- 
ographies and  gazetteers.  My  object  is  simply  to  pre- 
sent you  the  observations  and  reflections,  which  ob- 
truded themselves  upon  me,  from  nature,  and  the  gen- 
eral aspect  of  things.  In  the  systems  of  geology  and 
world-making,  which  have  furnished  so  much  amuse- 
ment to  the  philosophers,  or  would-be  philosophers  of 
the  day,  you  are  aware,  that  there  have  been  various 
ingenious  contrivances  for  the  formation  of  this  river, 
and  the  immense  valley  in  which  it  runs.  Among 
these  theories,  that  of  Mr.  Volney,  according  to  my  best 
recollection,  for  it  is  many  years  since  I  read  it,  sup- 


23  **0* 

poses  that  this  valley  was  in  former  ages  a  vast  lake. 
The  remains  of  the  dike  or  barrier  exist  at  present 
at  Louisville,  and  the  falls  of  the  Ohio.  It  is  certain, 
that  the  remains  of  river  or  lake  formation  exist, 
wherever  the  earth  is  penetrated  to  any  depth.  I  have 
not  seen  in  all  this  region  a  single  block  of  granite. 
The  bluffs  of  the  Ohio  are  carbonate  of  lime,  mixed 
often  with  the  exuviae  of  marine  animals.  I  have  seen 
cliffs,  which  contained  millions  of  a  small  species  of 
muscle-shells,  as  distinct  in  the  lime-stone,  as  if  they 
had  been  imbedded  there  but  yesterday.  I  have  pon- 
dered and  reflected  much  upon  these  remains  of  ma- 
rine formation.  But  to  relate  the  result  of  my  conclu- 
sions upon  the  subject,  as  it  is  not  my  object,  so  neither 
would  it,  in  my  judgment,  throw  much  light  upon  the 
subject.  I  leave  entirely  to  other  writers  to  devise  de- 
vices, and  to  imagine  causes,  sufficient  to  form  lakes 
and  drain  them,  and  to  account  for  these  indications 
of  marine  formation.  I  cannot,  however,  help  observ- 
ing, that  the  "  conclusion  of  the  whole  matter,"  in  my 
mind,  was,  that  the  bible  solution  of  the  matter,  was 
not  only  as  satisfactory,  but  as  plausible  as  any  other, 
and  to  me  the  most  philosophical.  God  made  the 
earth  lo  be  inhabited.  Such  a  river  as  the  Ohio,  such 
lateral  streams  as  pour  into  it,  the  mountains,  whose 
outer  limits  form  the  rim  of  the  basin,  the  thousand 
devious  channels,  by  which  the  cascades  and  fountains, 
that  pour  from  these  mountains,  find  their  way  to  the 
Ohio,  are  all  necessary  to  the  draining,  the  irrigation, 
and  the  habitancy  of  the  country.  In  this  view,  the 
river  and  the  valley  must  have  been  coeval,  and  formed 
not  only  together,  but  adjusted  the  one  to  the  other. 
There  is  a  conformation  of  physical  feature  in  the 
country  every  where,  as  you  approach  the  Ohio,  that 


24 


indicates  to  every  one  the  vicinity  of  the  river.  The 
bluffs  and  bottoms,  as  I  have  remarked,  almost  invari- 
ably alternate,  and  are  still  opposite  each  other ;  and 
beyond  them  there  is  generally  a  considerable  tract  of 
country,  in  the  south,  denominated  "  hammock-land," 
and  in  Ohio  "  second  bottom  ;  "  and  beyond  all  this, 
there  are  series  of  those  singular  hills,  so  unique  in 
their  appearance  and  character,  as  to  indicate  to  you, 
at  the  distance  of  miles  from  the  river,  that  you  are 
approaching  it.  Still,  beyond  all  this,  there  is  another 
strip  of  country  appropriate  to  the  distance  which  it 
occupies  from  the  river. 

I  need  not  inform  you,  that  the  Ohio  runs,  a  consid- 
erable distance,  wholly  in  Pennsylvania ;  that  after- 
wards, the  left  shore  in  descending  is  the  western  limit 
of  Virginia,  and  the  eastern  of  Ohio  ;  that  afterwards, 
Kentucky  is  bounded  on  the  left  and  Ohio  on  the  right 
shore ;  and  that  afterwards,  first  Indiana  and  then 
Illinois  bound  on  the  right  shore,  and  Kentucky  oppo- 
site on  the  left,  until  it  enters  the  Mississippi.  The 
former  and  the  latter  river  furnish  excellent  geographi- 
cal limits  to  states  on  a  scale  corresponding  to  the 
physical  extent,  grandeur,  and  ultimate  moral  destina- 
tion of  the  country. 

Jn  descending  we  often  met  with  boats  loaded  with 
Kenhawa  salt,  an  article  extensively  manufactured  at 
the  salines  on  that  river.  There  seems  to  have  been, 
at  that  time,  a  competition  between  the  salines  of 
New  York,  and  those  of  Kenhawa.  Boats  were  then 
ascending  from  the  latter  place  to  the  highest  boatable 
waters  of  the  Allegany.  This  region  had  formerly 
been  supplied  with  salt  from  the  works  in  New  York. 

We  found  a  new  source  of  amusement  in  contem- 
plating a  set  of  twelve  or  fourteen  hands,  walking 


25 


slowly  forward,  and  half  bent,  with  the  shoulder  firmly 
fixed  against  the  knob  of  a  lon£  pole,  whose  iron  point 
was  set  in  the  bottom,  and  thus  apparently  with  great 
labour  propelling  the  boat  against  the  stream.  As  soon 
as  they  have  walked  the  length  of  the  boat,  they  raise 
their  pole,  walk  forward  in  Indian  file,  and  renew 
their  "  set,"  as  the  phrase  is,  again.  I  shall,  however, 
more  naturally  remark  upon  the  mode  of  pushing  a 
boat  against  the  stream  in  another  place.  It  is  a  very 
laborious  and  slow  process,  very  expensive  and  trouble- 
some. Steam-boats,  save  one,  were  not  in  use  at  this 
time.  I  was  obliged  to  move  in  my  excursions,  in  a 
keel-boat.  I  was  compelled  to  know,  to  my  cost,  all 
about  pushing  a  boat  up  stream  with  a  pole.  u  Quee- 
que  ipse  miserrima  vidi."  Justly  to  appreciate  the 
value  of  steam-boats  on  these  waters,  one  must  have 
moved  up  them,  as  long,  as  dangerously,  and  as  labo- 
riously, as  I  have  done. 

Charlestown  is  a  considerable,  and  growing  town, 
on  the  Virginia  shore,  before  you  arrive  at  Wheeling. 
It  has  important  manufactories  of  flour.  At  Wheeling, 
the  Ohio  has  received  so  many  tributaries,  as  to  be 
navigable  by  keel-boats,  and  by  steam-boats  with  a 
small  draught  qf  water,  at  all  seasons  of  the  year. 
The  town  has  many  advantages  for  building  boats 
and  small  craft.  It  has  abundance  of  fossil  coal  for 
manufacturing,  and  other  purposes.  The  great  na- 
tional road  strikes  the  Ohio  here.  It  has  now  large 
piles  of  brick  buildings,  where  eleven  years  since  there 
was  but  one  miserable  and  straggling  street ;  and  who- 
ever looks  upon  the  place,  or  even  considers  its  posi- 
tion on  the  map,  will  perceive  at  once,  that  it  is  des- 
tined to  become  one  of  the  largest  towns  on  the  Ohio. 
When  we  were  there,  its  taverns  were  literally  crovvd- 
4 


26 


od  with  emigrants  to  the  West,  from  every  part  of  the 
Union.  We  were  all  arrested  here  by  the  influenza, 
which  was  then  a  most  distressing  epidemic  on  the 
western  waters.  The  house  where  we  put  up  was 
filled  with  the  sick,  with  lamenting  and  mourning  the 
determination  that  had  brought  the  patients  to  that  dis- 
tant and  strange  land.  The  objects  of  misery  were  so 
multiplied,  that  there  seemed  little  feeling  or  concern, 
on  the  part  of  the  people  about  them.  My  family  had 
their  share  of  neglect,  of  homesickness,  and  of  gloom. 
Imagine  a  sickness  of  heart,  more  disheartening  still 
than  the  influenza  ;  imagine  our  expenses,  and  the  little 
attention  paid  to  us  in  a  house  crowded  with  sick  ;  im- 
agine a  state  of  mind,  in  which  the  very  mention  of 
our  late  home  would  fill  the  eyes  of  my  children  with 
tears, — and  you  will  have  some  idea  of  the  character 
of  our  long  and  sad  sojourn  at  Wheeling. 


LETTER  VI. 

It  was  now  the  middle  of  November.  The  weath- 
er up  to  this  time  had  been,  with  the  exception  of  a 
couple  of  days  of  fog  and  rain,  delightful.  The  sky 
has  a  milder  and  lighter  azure  than  that  of  the  north- 
ern states.  The  wide,  clean  sand-bars  stretching  for 
miles  together,  and  now  and  then  a  flock  of  wild 
geese,  swans,  or  sand-hill  cranes,  and  pelicans,  stalking 
alone  on  them  ;  the  infinite  varieties  of  form  of  the 
towering  bluffs  ;  the  new  tribes  of  shrubs  and  plants  on 
the  shores ;  the  exuberant  fertility  of  the  soil,  evidenc- 
ing itself  in  the  natural  as  well  as  cultivated  vegetation, 
in  the  height  and  size  of  the  corn,  of  itself  alone  a 


27 


matter  of  astonishment  to  an  inhabitant  of  the  northern 
states,  in  the  thrifty  aspect  of  the  young  orchards,  lit- 
erally bending  under  their  fruit,  the  surprising  size 
and  rankness  of  the  weeds,  and,  in  the  enclosures  where 
cultivation  had  been  for  a  while  suspended,  the  matted 
abundance  of  every  kind  of  vegetation  that  ensued,— 
all  these  circumstances  united  to  give  a  novelty  and 
freshness  to  the  scenery.    The  bottom  forests  every- 
where display  the  huge  sycamore,  the  king  of  the 
western  forest,  in  all  places  an  interesting  tree,  but 
particularly  so  here,  and  in  autumn,  when  you  see  its 
white  and  long  branches  among  its  red  and  yeilovv* 
fading  leaves.    You  may  add,  that  in  all  the  trees  that 
have  been  stripped  of  their  leaves,  you  see  them 
crowned  with  verdant  tufts  of  the  viseus  or  misletoe, 
with  its  beautiful  white  berries,  and  their  trunks  en- 
twined with  grape-vines,  some  of  them  in  size  not 
much  short  of  the  human  body.    To  ad  J  to  this  union 
of  pleasant  circumstances,  there  is  a  delightful  tempe- 
rature of  the  air,  more  easily  felt  than  described.  In 
New  England,  when  the  sky  was  partially  covered 
with  fleecy  clouds,  and  the  wind  blew  very  gently  from 
the  southwest,  I  have  sometimes  had  the  same  sensa- 
tions from  the  temperature  there.    A  slight  degree  of 
languor  ensues ;  and  the  irritability  that  is  caused  by 
the  rougher  and  more  bracing  air  of  the  north,  and 
which  is  more  favourable  to  physical  strength  and  ac- 
tivity than  enjoyment,  gives  place  to  a  tranquillity 
highly  propitious  to  meditation.    There  is  something, 
too,  in  the  gentle  and  almost  imperceptible  motion,  as 
you  sit  on  the  deck  of  the  boat,  and  see  tire  trees  ap- 
parently moving  by  you,  and  new  groups  of  scenery 
still  opening  upon  your  eye,  together  with  the  view  of 
these  ancient  and  magnificent  forests,  which  the  axe 


28 


has  not  jet  despoiled,  the  broad  and  beautiful  river,  the 
earth  and  the  sky,  which  render  such  a  trip  at  this  sea- 
son the  very  element,  of  poetry.  Let  him  that  has 
within  him  the  "  bona  indoles,"  the  poetic  mania,  as  yet 
unwhjpt  of  justice,  not  think  to  sail  down  the  Ohio  un- 
der such  circumstances,  without  venting  to  the  genius 
of  the  river,  the  rocks  and  the  woods,  the  swans,  and 
perchance  his  distant  beloved,  his  dolorous  notes. 

You  have  often  given  me  ironical  praise  for  my  fan- 
cied sympathy  with  nature.  It  is  very  true,  that  I 
ought  under  no  circumstances  to  need  flappers  to  re- 
mind me  of  the  stern  calls  of  duty,  to  be,  as  the  boat- 
men here  express  it,  "  wide  awake  and  duly  sober." 
But  during  every  fine  day  on  this  excursion,  I  as  nat- 
urally gave  myself  up  to  that  kind  of  dreaming  exist- 
ence, called  reverie,  as  a  man  exhausted  with  toil  at 
night  yields  himself  up  to  sleep.  Sometimes,  too,  the 
opening  of  a  view,  of  more  imposing  and  inspiriting 
character,  exalted  the  soul  to  "  solemn  thought  and 
heavenly  musing."  Let  me  be  thankful  for  all  that  I 
have  enjoyed  ;  and  the  recollections  of  this  descent  are 
recollections  of  novel  and  almost  unmixed  enjoyment, 
and  are  indelibly  engraven  on  my  memory. 

The  climate  of  this  country  is  admitted  not  to  be 
so  favourable  to  physical  energy  and  activity  as  the 
keen  northwest  breeze  of  your  climate.  I  see  that 
the  emigrants  from  that  country  have  lost  something 
of  their  native  activity.  There  is  something,  also,  to 
me  almost  appalling  in  this  prodigious  power  of  vege- 
tation. For  there  is  with  me,  in  some  manner,  an  as- 
sociation of  this  thing  with  the  idea  of  sickness.  In- 
deed 1  have  now  and  then  seen  a  person  yawning  and 
stretching,  apparently  almost  incapable  of  motion,  and 
with  a  peculiar,  cadaverous  countenance,  who  has, 


29 


they  tell  me,  the  fever  and  ague.  But  all  this  not- 
withstanding, I  have  never  seen  a  country  to  appear- 
ance more  fruitful  in  men,  as  well  as  corn.  From  the 
cabins  and  houses  tumble  out,  as  you  approach  the 
shore,  a  whole  posse  of  big  and  little  -boys  and  girls; 
and  the  white-headed  urchins,  with  their  matted  locks, 
and  their  culottes  gaping  with  many  a  dismal  rent, 
stare  at  you  as  you  pass.  I  have  seen  no  where  else 
such  hosts  of  children.  The  process  of  doubling  pop- 
ulation, without  Malthus,  and  without  theory,  without 
artficial  or  natural  wants,  goes  on,  I  am  sure,  on  the 
banks  of  the  Ohio  as  rapidly  as  anywhere  in  the 
world.  Why  should  it  not  ?  The  climate  is  mild, 
the  cattle  need  little  care  or  housing,  arid  multiply 
rapidly.  Grain  requires  little  labour  in  the  cultivation, 
and  the  children  only  need  a  pone  of  corn  bread,  and 
a  bowl  of  milk. 


LETTER  VII. 

We  landed  at  Marietta,  just  above  the  mouth  of  the 
Muskingum.  It  is  a  considerable  village.  In  the 
forms  of  the  houses  and  the  arrangements  about  them, 
you  discover  that  this  is  an  establishment  from  New 
England.  A  number  of  well  informed  and  respectable 
emigrants  from  that  country  had  preceded  us,  and  had 
just  arrived  in  the  village.  Mr.  R.,  a  pious  and  amia- 
ble man,  who  has  since  deceased,  was  minister  there. 
I  had  letters  to  the  venerable  General  Putnam,  the 
patriarch  of  this  colony.  We  were  here  once  more 
in  the  society  of  those  who  had  breathed  the  same 
air,  had  contemplated  the  same  scenery,  and  been 


30 


reared  amidst  the  same  institutions  with  ourselves* 
You  ean  imagine  the  rapidity  of  discourse,  the  at- 
tempt of  two  or  three  to  narrate  their  adventures  at 
the  same  time,  and  the  many  pleasant  circumstances 
attending  the  renewal  of  a  long  suspended  intercoursei 
with  congenial  society. 

There  is  something  very  pleasant  and  rich  in  the 
aspect  of  the  wide  and  level  bottom  here.  There  is  a 
fine  steam* mill,  built  of  stone,  across  the  Muskingum, 
spouting  up  its  column  of  vapour,  and  the  accompani- 
ment of  boat-building  and  mechanic  labours  gives  the 
place  an  aspect  of  business  and  cheerfulness.  The 
place  has  however  suffered  more  than  once  from  in- 
undation, which  has  much  retarded  the  advancement 
of  its  growth.  We  hear  much  of  the  flourishing  and 
populous  settlement  up  the  Muskingum,  a  river  whose 
banks  are  said  to  be  pleasant  and  healthful.  The  riv- 
er, which  here  falls  into  the  Ohio,  is  broad,  shallow, 
and  considerably  rapid.  The  Ohio,  as  the  phrase  is, 
backs  it  up,  at  times,  to  a  considerable  distance  ;  a 
circumstance  which  occurs  in  all  the  rivers  of  the  Ohio 
and  Mississippi,  and  results  from  the  general  levelness 
of  the  face  of  the  country.  A  laughable  incident  is 
said  to  have  occurred  on  this  river,  frem  this  cause 
During  the  thick  fogs  that  often  happen  here,  it  is  well 
nigh  impossible  for  the  boatmen  to  judge  of  directions, 
or  ascertain  which  way  is  up,  or  which  way  down  the 
river.  In  such  circumstances,  a  boat  came  down  the 
Ohio  near  the  Muskingum  shore,  was  drawn  into  the 
mouth  of  the  river  by  the  current  that  was  backing  it 
up,  and  was  proceeding  to  ascend  it  in  the  fog.  When 
the  hands  had  made  some  miles  up  the  river,  they 
were  hailed,  and  the  usual  questions,  which  by  the 
way  are  very  tedious,  and  very  impertinent,  were  ask- 


31 


ed  :  viz.  Where  from  ?  How  laden  ?  Who  was  the 
captain  ?  And  where  bound  ?  To  this  last  question 
the  reply  was,  To  New  Orleans,  and  they  were  with 
difficulty  convinced,  that  they  were  making  head-way 
up  the  Muskingum.  In  effect,  no  commander  of  a 
seventy-four  is  more  punctiliously  greeted  with  all  this 
kind  of  questioning  than  a  flat  or  keel-boat,  descend- 
ing the  Ohio.  The  boatmen  relate,  that  it  so  happen- 
ed, that  a  descending  boat  was  able  to  answer  truly  to 
these  interrogatories  in  the  following  manner.  Where 
are  you  from?  Redstone.  What's  your  lading? 
Millstones.  What 's  the  captain's  name  ?  Whetstone. 
Where  are  you  bound  ?    To  Limestone. 

I  may  here  remark,  that  this  kind  of  questioning  of- 
ten gives  occasion  to  that  rencontre  of  wit,  that  is 
commonly  called  blackguarding.  I  have  more  than 
once  been  compelled  to  smile,  at  the  readiness  or 
whimsicality  of  the  retorts  in  these  trials  of  vulgarity, 
between  the  people  on  shore  and  the  boatmen.  But 
I  have  much  oftener  been  disgusted  with  the  obscenity, 
abuse,  and  blasphemy,  which  usually  terminate  the 
contest.  We  are  told,  that  this  proceeds  sometimes  to 
the  length  of  exchanging  musket  shots.  Such  an 
event  recently  occurred.  A  boatman  in  this  way  as- 
sailed a  man  on  the  shore.  The  landsman  proved 
the  more  adroit  blackguard  of  the  two.  In  this  keen 
encounter  of  wits,  whenever  the  man  on  the  shore  had 
the  best  reply,  as  generally  happened,  he  was  cheered 
by  the  hands  on  the  boat,  and  their  companion  ridi- 
culed. The  boatman  at  length,  exasperated  beyond 
all  patience,  seized  a  rifle  and  levelled  at  his  antago- 
nist on  the  shore,  who  with  every  mark  of  terror, 
instantly  sprang  behind  a  tree.  Nothing  is  so  ludi- 
crous, or  so  quickly  disarms  resentment  in  a  boatman, 


52 


as  any  expression  of  terror  and  cowardice.  EJe  ex- 
claimed, that  he  had  treed  the  game,  and  bursting  into 
laughter,  he  let  his  rifle  fall. 

Though  this  is  in  some  sense  a  Yankee  region,  and 
Ohio  is  called,  on  the  opposite  shore,  the  Yankee  state, 
you  do  not  the  less  hear  at  all  these  towns,  and  every 
where  in  this  state,  fine  stories  about  Yankee  tricks, 
and  Yankee  finesse,  and  wooden  nutmegs,  and  pit-coal 
indigo,  and  gin  made  by  putting  pinetops  in  the  whis- 
key. The  poor  Irish  have  not  had  more  stories  in- 
vented and  put  into  their  mouths.  I  might  relate  a 
score  of  Yankee  tricks,  that  different  people  assured 
us  had  been  played  off  upon  them.  I  will  only 
remark,  that  wherever  w7e  stopped  at  night  and  re- 
quested lodgings,  we  were  constantly  asked  if  we 
were  Yankees ;  and  when  we  answered  that  we  were, 
w7e  constantly  saw  a  lengthening  of  visage  ensue,  but 
were  generally  complimented  in  the  end  with  granting 
our  request,  and  assurances  that  our  appearance  and 
my  profession  answered  for  us.  We  were  then  com- 
pelled to  hear  of  impositions  and  petty  tricks,  and 
small  thefts,  and  more  than  all,  departure  without  pay- 
ing off  bills,  which,  they  alleged,  had  been  practised 
upon  them  by  Yankees.  The  emigrants  upon  whom 
these  charges  are  fixed,  which  are  probably  magnified, 
both  in  number  and  enormity,  are  as  often  other 
people,  as  Yankees.  But  as  these  last  eminently 
possess  the  power  of  talking,  and  inspire  a  sort  of 
terror  by  their  superior  acuteness,  and  as  that  terror 
procures  a  certain  degree  of  respect,  many  a  block- 
head from  the  southern  and  middle  states  has  wished 
to  shine  his  hour,  as  a-  wise  man,  and  has  assumed 
this  terrific  name  ;  and  thus  the  impression  has  finally 
been  established,  that  almost  all  the  emigrants  who 


33 


pass  down  the  river,  are  Yankees.  The  common  reply 
of  the  boat-men  to  those  who  ask  them  what  is  their 
lading,  is,  "  Pit-coal  indigo,  wooden  nutmegs,  straw 
baskets,  and  Yankee  notions." 

To  return  to  Marietta.  General  Putnam  was  a  vet- 
eran of  the  revolution,  an  inhabitant  of  Marietta,  one 
of  the  first  purchasers  and  settlers  in  the  country.  He 
had  moved  here,  when  it  was  one  compact  and  bound- 
less forest,  vocal  only  with  the  cry  of  owls,  the  growl 
of  bears,  and  the  death-song  of  the  savages.  He  had 
seen  that  forest  fall  under  the  axe, — had  seen  commo- 
dious, and  after  that,  splendid  dwellings  rise  around 
him.  He  had  seen  the  settlement  sustain  an  inunda- 
tion, which  wafted  away  the  dwellings,  and  in  some 
instances  the  inhabitants  in  them.  The  cattle  and  all 
the  improvements  of  cultivation  were  swept  away. 
He  had  seen  the  country  suffer  all  the  accumulated 
horrors  of  an  Indian  war.  He  had  seen  its  exhaustless 
fertility  and  its  natural  advantages  triumph  over  ail. 
He  had  seen  Marietta  make  advances  towards  acquaint- 
ing itself  with  the  gulf  of  Mexico,  by  floating  off  from 
its  banks  a  number  of  sea  vessels  built  there.  He  had 
seen  the  prodigious  invention  of  steain-boais  experi- 
mented on  the  Ohio,  and  heard  their  first  thunder,  as 
they  swept  by  his  dwelling.  He  had  survived  to  see 
them  become  so  common,  as  to  be  no  more  objects  of 
curiosity.  He  had  witnessed  a  hundred  boats,  laden 
for  New  Orleans,  pass  by  in  the  compass  of  a  few 
hours.  He  had  surrounded  his  modest,  but  commo- 
dious dwelling  with  fruit-trees  of  his  own  planting  ;  and 
finer,  or  more  loaded  orchards  than  his,  no  country 
could  offer.  In  the  midst  of  rural  plenty,  and  endear- 
ed friends,  who  had  grown  up  around  him, — far  from 
the  display  of  wealth,  the  bustle  of  ambition  and  in- 
5 


34 


trigue,  the  father  of  the  colony,  hospitable  and  kind 
without  ostentation  and  without  effort,  he  displayed 
in  these  remote  regions,  the  grandeur,  real  and  intrin- 
sic, of  those  immortal  men,  who  achieved  our  revolu- 
tion. Of  these  great  men,  most  of  whom,  and  Gene- 
ral Putnam  among  the  rest,  have  passed  away,  there 
seems  to  have  arisen  a  more  just  and  a  more  respect- 
ful estimate.  Greater  and  more  unambitious  men,  no 
age  or  country  has  reared.  Cato's  seems  to  have  been 
their  motto — u  esse  quam  videri." 

At  the  close  of  November  we  departed  from  Ma- 
rietta. The  days  were  still  delightful.  But  the 
earth  in  the  morning  was  whitened  with  frost.  The 
advanced  season  admonished  us,  that  we  could  no 
longer  go  on  safely  or  commodiouslj,  in  an  open 
boat.  We  purchased  a  Kentucky  flat,  of  forty  tons 
burthen,  subject  however  to  the  incumbrance  of  a  fam- 
ily, who  had  been  already  insured  a  passage  in  it.  A 
few  hours  before  sunset  we  went  on  board  with  a  num- 
ber of  passengers,  beside  my  family,  and  I  introduced 
my  family  to  the  one  that  was  already  on  board.  He 
proved  to  be  a  fine,  healthy-looking  Kentuckian,  with  a 
young  and  pretty  wife,  two  or  three  negro-servants,  and 
two  small  children.  He  was  a  fair  specimen  of  the 
rough  and  frank  Kentucky  character  of  men  of  his 
class;  an  independent  farmer,  who  had  swarmed  from 
the  old  homestead  hive  in  Kentucky.  Land,  there,  he 
said,  had  already  become  too  scarce  and  dear.  He 
wanted  elbow-room,  did  not  wish  to  have  a  neighbour 
within  three  miles  of  him,  and  was  moving  to  the  upper 
Mississippi,  for  range.  It  had  become  too  dark  on 
board  for  him  to  distinguish  my  family  or  profession. 
"  So,"  said  he,  "  I  find  1  am  chartered  on  a  rail-splitting 
Yankee,"  adding  an  epithet  that  I  omit.    Some  one 


35 


politely  mentioned  to  him  my  profession.  His  wife 
observed  in  the  phrase  of  the  country,  "  My  husband 
swears  hard.  His  father  and  mine  are  both  religious. 
I  should  be  forever  thankful  to  you,  if  you  would  cure 
him  of  the  habit  of  swearing."  I  remarked,  that  since 
we  were  thrown  together,  and  were  under  the  neces- 
sity of  occupying  the  same  boat  for  some  days,  it 
would  be  extremely  gratifying  to  me  if  he  would  de- 
sist from  the  habit,  at  least  while  we  were  together. 
The  usual  remarks  were  added,  on  the  folly  and 
vulgarity  of  swearing,  and  its  utter  want  of  temptation. 
He  replied,  that  it  was  not  his  habit  to  swear  in  the 
presence  of  ministers,  or  gentlemen,  to  whom  he  knew 
it  was  offensive.  He  continued,  in  an  earnest  tone,  to 
slate  that  all  his  relatives  were  religious,  and  that  he 
wras  almost  the  single  stray  sheep  from  the  flock  ;  he  had 
often  tried  to  "  get  religion,"  as  the  phrase  is  here  ;  he 
had  laboured  as  hard  for  it,  as  he  ever  had  at  rolling 
logs,  and  that  whatever  was  the  reason,  do  all  he  could, 
to  him  it  would  never  come  ;  and  now,  if  it  would  come 
to  him  of  itself,  good  ;  but  if  not,  that  he  meant  to  try 
for  it  no  more.  He  pledged  himself,  in  conclusion,  that 
he  would  abstain  from  swearing  while  with  me,  as  far 
as  he  could  remember  to  abstain,  and  he  faithfully  re- 
deemed his  pledge.  He  proved  an  excellent  steersman 
for  the  boat,  and  a  kind  and  friendly,  if  not  a  pleasant 
companion.  He  had  been  many  years  a  boatman  on 
the  Ohio,  the  Mississippi,  and  its  waters ;  and  had  a 
great  fund  of  interesting  narrative  appertaining  to  his 
numerous  voyages. 

He  became  very  much  amused  in  stirring  up  the 
national  feeling  in  my  children,  by  speaking  against 
New  England  and  ridiculing  Yankees.  He  had  serv- 
ed in  the  late  wrar,  on  the  Canada  frontier,  and  had 


36 

many  pleasant  stories  about  their  ingenious  knaveries. 
He  generally  concluded  these  details  with  a  song,  the 
burden  or  chorus  of  which  was, 

w  They  wiil  put  pine-tops  in  their  whiskey, 

And  then  they  will  call  it  gin." 

This  song  he  would  extend  to  a  number  of  stanzas, 
singing  them  with  the  utmost  extent  of  his  voice.  One 
of  the  children  of  nine  years,  whose  patriotic  blood 
had  become  too  warm  to  bear  all  this,  assailed  him 
in  the  most  earnest  manner,  palliating  or  denying 
every  charge.  In  the  height  of  the  argument,  we  had 
drifted  near  the  Ohio  shore.  "Oh  !"  said  he  to  my 
daughter,  "  look  there  now,  at  the  cruelty  of  the  Yan- 
kees !  There  is  a  man  ploughing  writh  two  cows.  At 
night,  after  working  them  all  day,  he  will  turn  them 
out  and  milk  them.  Do  you  think  it  is  in  the  heart  of 
a  Kentuckian  to  be  so  cruel  and  avaricious  ?  "  Our 
child  appealed  to  me,  if  the  team  in  question  were 
cows.  Indeed,  at  the  distance  of  the  field,  the  oxen 
had  the  appearance  of  cows,  and  to  keep  up  the  spirit 
of  the  argument,  I  admitted  that  they  appeared  to  be 
cows. 

The  next  morning  our  daughter  had  her  revenge 
upon  Kentucky.  We  were  floating  by  a  large  stone 
house  on  the  Kentucky  shore.  The  master  was 
lounging  in  the  piazza.  The  usual  salutation  pass- 
ed:— "  Halloo,  the  boat !  99  To  which  the  reply  was, 
"  Halloo,  the  house  !  Have  you  any  potatoes  to  sell 
to  our  boat  ?  "  "  None.  Have  you  any  whiskey 
aboard  that  boat  ?  "  "  Plenty,"  answered  our  captain, 
although  in  fact  we  had  none.  "Well,  I  will  trade 
some  potatoes  for  whiskey."  "  What  do  you  ask  for 
your  potatoes  ?  "  "  A.  dollar  a  bushel."  That  is  to 
say,  he  asked  three  times  a  fair  price.    The  answer 


31 


was,  that  it  was  too  high  a  price.  66  Well,  I  will  let 
you  have  a  bushel  of  potatoes  for  a  gallon  of  whis- 
key ! 55  The  whiskey  would  have  been  worth  thirty- 
three  cents.  He  continued  to  bawl  out,  that  he  would 
let  us  have  a  bushel  for  half  a  gallon,  and  finally  for  a 
quart.  We  took  occasion  to  remind  our  captain,  that  if 
the  Kentuckians  did  not  work  their  cows,  and  then  milk 
them  for  beverage,  they  seemed  to  have  no  small  fond- 
ness for  beverage  of  another  sort. 

Nothing  very  material  occurred  to  us  on  our  way 
to  Cincinnati,  except  that  we  encountered,  while  float- 
ing by  night,  a  severe  thunderstorm,  always  an  im- 
pressive scene  by  night,  and  particularly  so  in  one  of 
these  frail  boats,  which  lies  like  a  log  amidst  the 
waves,  in  profound  darkness,  and  a  stream  a  mile  in 
width.  Besides  the  unpleasant  sensations  to  my  fam- 
ily, to  whom  this  was  a  new  scene,  the  rain  that  pour- 
ed in  torrents,  drenched  every  part  of  the  boat,  so  that 
with  the  roar  of  thunder  and  the  dashing  of  the  waves 
without,  and  the  terrors  of  my  children  within,  we 
passed  a  very  uncomfortable  night. 


LETTER  VIII . — CINCINNA  TI. 

Eleven  years  since,  this  was  the  only  place  that 
could  properly  be  called  a  town,  on  the  course  of  the 
Ohio  and  Mississippi,  from  Steubenville  to  Natchez, 
a  distance  of  fifteen  hundred  miles.  It  is  far  olherwise 
now.  But  even  then  you  cast  your  eye  upon  a  large 
and  compact  town,  and  extended  your  view  over  the 
river  to  the  fine  buildings  rising  on  the  slope  of  the 
opposite  shore,  and  contemplated  the  steam-manufac- 
tories, darting  their  columns  of  smoke  aloft.    All  this 


38 


moving  picture  of  wealth,  populousness,  and  activity, 
has  been  won  from  the  wilderness  within  forty  years. 
In  1815-16  it  contained  between  eight  and  nine 
thousand  inhabitants,  handsome  streets,  a  number  of 
churches,  one  a  very  large  one, — a  very  spacious 
building  for  a  Lancastrian  school,  and  other  public 
buildings,  and  two  commodious  market-houses.  On 
the  opposite  shore  rose  a  considerable  village  ;  an  ar- 
senal of  brick,  some  handsome  mansions,  and  one  or 
two  country-seats,  that  rose  still  farther  in  the  dis- 
tance. The  buildings  on  each  side  were  placed  in  po- 
sitions, that  displayed  them  to  the  best  possible  advan- 
tage, on  gentle  slopes  rising  gradually  from  the  shores 
of  the  river.  While  I  am  writing,  it  is  supposed  to 
contain  between  sixteen  and  twTenty  thousand  inhabit- 
ants, with  the  increase  of  every  appendage  to  city 
comfort,  beauty,  and  opulence,  in  more  than  a  com- 
mensurate proportion  with  its  increasing  population. 
It.  is  a  fund  for  proud  anticipation,  to  minds  that  sym- 
pathize with  the  welfare  of  their  country  and  of  man. 
This  great  state,  which  was,  within  my  memory,  an 
unbroken  wilderness,  is  now,  at  farthest,  only  the 
fourth  state  in  the  union  in  point  of  numbers.  There 
are  not,  probably,  on  the  earth  seven  hundred  thousand 
human  beings,  who  in  the  mass  are  more  comfortably 
fed  and  clothed,  than  the  population  of  this  state.  J 
looked  upon  this  fresh  and  flourishing  city,  outstretched 
under  my  eye,  and  compared  in  thought  its  progress 
with  that  of  the  imperial  Petersburg, — where  a  great 
and  intelligent  despot  said,  "Let  there  be  a  city,"  and  a 
city  arose  upon  a  Golgotha,  upon  piles  of  human  bones 
and  skulls,  that  gave  consistency  to  a  morass.  The 
awe  of  a  numberless  soldiery,  the  concentered  resour- 
ces of  thirty  millions  of  slaves,  the  will  of  the  sovereign, 


39 


who  made  the  same  use  of  men  that  the  mason  does 
of  bricks  and  mortar,  must  all  conspire  to  form  a  city 
in  that  place.  Droves  of  peasants  are  transplanted 
from  the  extremities  of  Asia  to  people  it.  Imperial 
treasures  are  lavished  to  furnish  inducements  to  entice 
the  noblesse  to  build  and  reside  there.  A  despotic 
court  displays  there  Asiatic  magnificence,  and  squan- 
ders the  means  of  ministering  to  its  caprices  and  its 
pleasures.  The  result  of  all  these  concurring  causes 
is  the  erection  of  one  splendid  city  in  the  midst  of  a 
desert ;  and  more  human  beings,  probably,  perished  in 
this  unnatural  forcing  of  a  city,  than  inhabit  it  at  this 
day. 

How  different  are  the  fostering  efforts  of  liberty. 
Sixteen  hundred  miles  from  the  sea,  in  half  an  age,  this 
flourishing  and  beautiful  town  has  emerged  from  the 
woods,  and  when  as  old  as  Petersburg  now  is,  will  prob- 
ably, in* wealth  and  population,  emulate  the  imperial 
city.  No  troops  are  stationed,  no  public  money  lav- 
ished here.  It  is  not  even  the  state  metropolis.  The 
people  build  and  multiply  imperceptibly  and  in  silence. 
Nothing  is  forced.  This  magnificent  result  is  only  the 
developement  of  our  free  and  noble  institutions,  upon 
a  fertile  soil.  Nor  is  this  place  the  solitary  point, 
where  the  genius  of  our  institutions  is  working  this 
result.  Numerous  cities  and  towns,  over  an  extent  of 
two  thousands  of  miles,  are  emulating  the  growth  of 
this  place.  The  banks  of  the  Ohio  are  destined  short- 
ly to  become  almost  a  continued  village.  Eleven  years 
have  produced  an  astonishing  change  in  this  respect ; 
for  at  that  distance  of  time,  by  far  the  greater  propor- 
tion of  the  course  of  the  Ohio  was  through  a  forest. 
When  you  saw  this  cky,  apparently  lifting  its  head 
from  surrounding  woods,  you  found  yourself  at  a  loss 


40 


to  imagine  whence  so  many  people  could  be  fur- 
nished with  supplies.  In  the  fine  weather,  at  the  com- 
mencement of  winter,  it  is  only  necessary  to  go  to  the 
market  of  this  town,  and  see  its  exuberant  supplies  of 
every  article  for  consumption,  in  the  finest  order,  and 
of  the  best  quality  ;  to  see  the  lines  of  wagons  and 
the  astonishing  quantities  of  every  kind  of  produce,  to 
realize,  at  once,  all  that  you  have  read  about  the 
growth  of  Ohio. 

In  one  place  you  see  lines  of  wagons  in  the  Pennsyl- 
vania style.  In  another  place  the  Tunkers,  with  their 
long  and  flowing  beards,  have  brought  up  their  teams 
with  their  fat  mutton  and  fine  flour.  Fowls,  domes- 
tic and  wild  turkeys,  venison,  those  fine  birds  which 
are  here  called  partridges,  and  which  we  call  quails, 
all  sorts  of  fruits  and  vegetables,  equally  excellent  and 
cheap, — in  short,  all  that  you  see  in  Boston  market,  with 
the  exception  of  the  same  variety  of  fish,  and  all  these 
things  in  the  greatest  abundance,  are  here.  In  one 
quarter  there  are  wild  animals  that  have  been  taken 
in  the  woods  ;  cages  of  red -birds  and  parroquets  ;  and 
in  another,  old  ladies,  with  roots,  herbs,  nuts,  mittens, 
stockings,  and  what  they  call  "Yankee  notions." 
My  judgment  goes  with  the  general  assertion  here, 
that  no  place,  in  proportion  to  its  size,  has  a  richer  or 
more  abundant  market  than  Cincinnati. 

I  found  in  this  town  great  numbers  of  emigrants, 
most  of  them  from  the  north*.  They  were  but  too 
often  wretchedly  furnished  with  money,  and  the  com- 
forts almost  indispensable  to  a  long  journey.  It  seem- 
ed to  have  been  their  impression,  that  if  once  they 
could  arrive  at  the  land  of  milk  and  honey,  supplies 
would  come  of  course.  The  autumn  had  been  unu- 
sually sickly.     The  emigrants  had  endured  great  ex- 


41 


posure  in  arriving  here.  Families  were  crowded  into 
a  single,  and  often  in  a  small  and  uncomfortable  apart- 
ment. Many  suffered,  died,  and  were  buried  by  char- 
ity. Numerous  instances  of  unrecorded  suffering,  of 
the  most  exquisite  degree,  and  with  every  agonizing 
circumstance,  occurred.  The  parties  often  wrere 
friendless,  moneyless,  orphans,  infants,  widows,  in  a 
strange  land,  in  a  large  town,  as  humane  as  might  be 
expected,  but  to  which,  unfortunately,  such  scenes  of 
suffering  had  become  so  frequent  and  familiar,  as  to 
have  lost  their  natural  tendency  to  produce  sympathy 
and  commiseration.  The  first  house  which  I  en- 
tered in  this  town,  was  a  house  into  one  room  of 
which  was  crowded  a  numerous  family  from  Maine. 
The  husband  and  father  was  dying,  and  expired  while 
I  was  there.  The  wife  was  sick  in  the  same  bed,  and 
either  from  terror  or  exhaustion,  uttered  not  a  word 
during  the  whole  scene.  Three  children  were  sick  of 
fevers.  If  you  add  that  they  were  in  the  house  of  a 
poor  man,  and  had  spent  their  last  dollar,  you  can  fill 
out  the  picture  of  their  misery.  It  is  gloomy  to  reflect 
that  the  cheering  results  of  the  settlement  of  our  new 
states  and  territories,  are  not  obtained  without  num- 
berless accompaniments  of  wretchedness  like  this. 
No  charitable  associations  are  more  needed  than  so- 
cieties to  aid  emigrants  in  cases  like  this,  to  be  located 
at  the  great  resorts  of  departure  and  embarkation. 
Perhaps  our  government,  whose  charities  are  in  general 
so  considerate  and  efficient,  ought  to  interpose,  and 
see  that  the  emigrating  family  have  means,  in  the  or- 
dinary course  of  things,  to  carry  them  to  their  point  of 
destination,  and  if  they  have  not,  either  to  aid  them, 
or  prevent  the  heads  from  exposing  children,  and  per- 
sons unconscious  of  their  exposure,  to  certain  misery. 
6 


42 


As  I  contemplated  residing  here  until  the  ensuing 
spring,  I  took  a  house,  and  began  to  make  excursions 
in  the  vicinity,  and  to  inspect  the  town.  The  position 
is  a  pleasant  one,  and  the  adjoining  country  very  fer- 
tile. An  astonishing  growth  of  weeds,  and  tangled 
vegetation  in  the  enclosed  lots  and  fields,  attest  the 
qualities  of  the  soil.  There  are  a  great  many  hand- 
some gardens,  neatly  laid  out,  and  ornamented  with 
the  most  vigorous  and  luxuriant  growth  of  vines,  orna- 
mental shrubs,  and  fruit-trees.  As  you  recede  from 
town  and  the  Ohio  bottom,  the  country  becomes 
agreeably  uneven,  and  undulating,  though  apparently 
as  rich  as  the  bottom.  These  elevations  are  so  abrupt 
and  considerable,  that  you  have  seldom  many  houses 
in  view  from  the  same  point.  Some  of  the  sites  for 
the  farms,  in  the  vicinity  of  the  town,  are  delightfully 
romantic.  The  experiment  has  abundantly  verified, 
that  speculation  and  wealth,  without  natural  advan- 
tages, in  the  United  States,  cannot  force  a  town.  Eve- 
ry thing,  with  us,  must  be  free,  even  to  the  advance- 
ment of  a  town.  Nothing  will  grow  vigorously  in 
our  land  from  artificial  cultivation,  nor  unless  nature 
works  at  the  root.  If  speculation,  as  is  said,  founded 
this  flourishing  town,  it  happened  for  once  to  select 
the  place,  where  nature  and  the  actual  position  of 
things  called  for  one.  It  is  intermediate  between  the 
two  Miamies,  in  the  centre  of  a  very  rich  region  of  coun- 
try, where  points  of  river  and  road  communication, 
from  the  most  fertile  districts  and  remotest  sections  of 
the  state,  terminate.  The  result  demonstrates,  that  the 
wonderful  improvement  of  the  town  only  keeps  pace 
with  the  advancement  and  cultivation  of  the  country.' 

The  great  state,  of  which  this  town  is  the  natural, 
though  not  the  political  metropolis,  spreads  from  the 


43 


lakes  on  the  north,  to  the  Ohio  on  the  south,  on 
which  it  fronts  for  many  hundred  miles.    In  the  north- 
west, where  it  joins  Indiana ;   on  Mad  river,  and 
on  the  Scioto,  it  evidences  its  proximity  to  the  prairie 
region  of  the  west.    These  prairies  are  but  diminutive, 
though  fertile  copies  of  the  more  western  ones.    The  far 
greater  proportion  of  this  state  is  thickly  timbered  with 
a  heavy  and  deep  forest,  the  classes  of  whose  trees 
and  shrubs  have  been  often  described,  and  are  well 
known.    One  remark  may  convey  some  general  idea 
of  the  forest.    There  are  very  few  evergreen^  or  tere. 
binthine  trees,  if  we  except  some  few  cypress  trees,  <vV\d 
all  the  trees  are  deciduous.    With  the  exception,  per- 
haps, of  Illinois,  this  state  affords  the  greatest  bodies 
of  good  land  in  America.    On  its  whole  wide  surface 
there  is  scarcely  any  land  so  hilly,  sterile,  or  marshy, 
as  with  moderate  labor  may  not  be  subdued,  dr%ed, 
and  cultivated.    Toward  the  north  there  are  incited, 
extensive  tracts  of  marshy  country  ;  but,  when  drained 
as  they  will  easily  be,  they  will  bu-wm.  a.v,  «H)St  pr0_ 
ductive  lands.    Besides  this  tract  there  are  no 
morasses,  no  extensive  inundated  swamps,  no  sterile 
mountains,  or  barren  plains.    The  whole  region  seems 
to  have  invited  that  hardy  and  numerous  body  of  free- 
holders, that  inhabit  it,  to  select  themselves  moderate, 
and  nearly  equal-sized  farms,  and  to  dot  and  intersperse 
them  over  its  surface.    And  in  respect  of  the  smallness 
of  the  farms,  the  number  and  equality  of  them,  and 
the  compactness  of  its  population,  not  confined,  as  is 
the  case  farther  west,  to  the  water-courses,  but  diffused 
over  the  whole  state,  it  compares  very  accurately 
with  its  parent,  New-England. 

To  an  eye,  however,  that  could  contemplate  the 
whole  region  from  an  elevated  point,  it  would,  even 


44 


vet,  exhibit  a  great  proportion  of  unbroken  forest,  only 
here  and  there  chequered  with  farms.  And  yet  in  the 
country-towns,  and  in  the  better  settled  districts,  any 
spectacle  that  collects  the  multitude,  a  training,  an  ordi- 
nation, an  election,  the  commencement  of  any  great  pub- 
lic work,  causes  a  rush  from  the  woods  and  the  forests, 
which,  like  the  tenanted  trees  of  the  poets,  in  the  olden 
time,  seem  to  have  given  birth  to  crowds  of  men,  women, 
and  children,  pouring  towards  the  point  of  attraction. 
The  greater  part  of  the  land,  in  the  settled  districts,  is 
taken  up-  ine  phrase  is.  But  the  population  has 
vcf,  by  no  means,  advanced  towards  the  density  of 
which  it  is  capable.  The  gigantic  strides,  by  which 
this  state  has  swept  by  most  of  those  that  witnessed  its 
birth,  jeem  to  justify  all  the  proud  anticipations  of  the 
most  sanguine  patriots,  and  even  the  turgid  predic- 
tion/of  fourth  of  July  orators.  If  its  progress  for  the 
fimxe  should  correspond  with  that  of  the  past,  in  one 
century  it  will  probably  compare  with  the  most  popu- 
lous and         atcd  regions  of  Europe. 

U  is  generally  denominated  in  the  western  country 
the  Yankee  state.  Although  I  should  not  suppose, 
from  my  means  of  observation,  that  the  greater  propor- 
tion of  its  inhabitants  were  actual  emigrants  from 
New  England,  it  is  clearly  the  last  region,  in  advan- 
cing west,  where  the  institutions  of  that  country  seem 
to  have  struggled  for  the  ascendency.  The  prevalent 
modes  of  living ,  of  society,  of  instruction,  of  associa- 
ting for  any  public  object,  of  thinking,  and  enjoying, 
among  the  middling  classes,  struck  me,  generally,  to 
be  copies  of  the  New  England  pattern.  There  is 
a  more  familiar,  and  seemingly  a  more  cheerful  inter- 
tercourse  between  the  two  sexes,  than  in  the  other 
western  states.  The  people  more  naturally  unite  them- 


45 


selves  into  corporate  unions,  and  concentre  their 
strength  for  public  works  and  purposes.  They  have 
the  same  desire  for  keeping  up  schools,  for  cultivating 
psalmody,  for  settling  ministers,  and  attending  upon 
religious  worship;  and  unfortunately  the  same  disposi- 
tion to  dogmatize,  to  settle,  not  only  their  own  faith, 
but  that  of  their  neighbour,  and  to  stand  resolutely, 
and  dispute  fiercely,  for  the  slightest  shade  of  difference 
of  religious  opinion.  In  short,  in  the  tone  of  conversa- 
tion, the  ways  of  thinking  and  expressing  thought  up- 
on all  subjects,  in  the  strong  exercise  of  social  inclina- 
.  tion,  expressing  itself  in  habits  of  neighbourhood,  to 
form  villages,  and  live  in  them,  in  preference  to  that 
sequestered  and  isolated  condition,  which  a  Kentuck- 
ian,  under  the  name  of  44  range,"  considers  as  one  of 
the  desirable  circumstances  of  existence  ;  in  the  thou- 
sand slight  shades  of  manner,  the  union  of  which  so 
strongly  marks  one  people  from  another,  and  the  de- 
tails of  which  are  too  minute  to  be  described,  by  most 
of  these  things,  this  is  properly  designated  "  the  Yan- 
kee state." 

The  people  of  Cincinnati  evince  a  laudable  desire  to 
belong  to  some  religious  society.  When  I  arrived 
there  the  methodists  appeared  to  be  the  prevailing  de- 
nomination. They  are  strongly  marked  with  the  pe- 
culiarities of  their  sect.  They  had  a  number  of  lay- 
preachers,  some  of  them  among  the  most  wealthy  peo- 
ple in  the  town.  Unhappily  this  community  of  preach- 
ers produced  its  natural  effect,  in  creating  partisans 
for  the  favourite  preacher.  One  good  result  flowed 
from  their  union  of  wealth  and  zeal.  Among  the  em- 
igrants that  were  in  distress,  they  sought  out  those  of 
their  own  denomination,  and  relieved  them.  It  would 
be  a  desirable  thing,  that  the  religious  of  other  denom- 


46 


inations  had  more  of  this  "  esprit  du  corps,"  and  felt 
that  their  community  of  profession,  imposed  obliga- 
tions of  this  sort  towards  their  suffering  brethren  in  a 
strange  land.  It  was  painful  to  observe,  that  they, 
but  too  often,  brought  this  strong  fellow-feeling  in  aid 
of  political,  and  other  projects,  that  had  been  previ- 
ously marked  out  in  conclave  by  their  leaders. 

This  town  begins  already  to  emulate  the  parent  coun- 
try in  the  bitterness  of  contest  about  ministers.  There 
were  hot  disputes  in  the  Presbyterian  church.  I  attend- 
ed the  session  of  a  Presbytery,  assembled  professedly 
to  heal  these  divisions.  The  ministers  took  the  atti- 
tude, and  made  the  long  speeches  of  lawyers,  in  dis- 
cussing the  dispute  before  this  tribunal.  They  availed 
themselves  of  the  same  vehement  action,  and  pouring 
out  a  great  deal  of  rather  vapid  declamation,  proceeded 
to  settle  points,  that  seemed  to  me  of  very  little  impor- 
tance. The  whole  scene  presented,  it  may  be,  a  suffi- 
cient modicum  of  talent  for  the  bar,  but  manifested 
much  want  of  the  appropriate  temper,  so  strongly  re- 
commended by  St.  John  the  divine.  I  opened  one  of 
the  polemical  pamphlets  of  religious  controversy, 
with  which  the  press  began  to  teem,  in  this  town  ; 
and  if  memory  serves  me,  the  first  remark  in  the 
pamphlet  was,  "  It  beats  the  devil."  The  mode  of  ex- 
pressing it  may  not  be  so  coarse,  but  it  is  humiliating 
to  consider,  that  a  like  spirit  is  apt  to  infuse  itself  into 
all  religious  disputes. 

Some  of  the  ministers  whom  I  heard  preach  here, 
were  men  of  considerable  talent  and  readiness.  They 
were  uniformly  in  the  habit  of  extemporaneous  preach- 
ing, a  custom  which,  in  my  judgment,  gives  a  certain 
degree  of  effect  even  to  ordinary  matter.  Their  man- 
ner had  evidently  been  formed  to  the  character  of  the 


47 


people,  and  indicated  their  prevailing  taste ;  and  had 
taken  its  colouring  from  the  preponderance  of  the 
Methodists,  and  the  more  sensitive  character  of  the 
people  of  the  south.  They  did  not  much  affect  dis- 
cussion, but  ran  at  once  into  the  declamatory.  Some- 
times these  flights  were  elevated,  but  much  oftener  not 
well  sustained.  For  the  speaking,  the  whole  was,  for 
the  most  part,  moulded  in  one  form.  They  commen- 
ced the  paragraph  in  a  moderate  tone,  gradually  ele- 
vating the  voice  with  each  period,  and  closing  it  with 
the  greatest  exertion,  and  the  highest  pitch  of  the  voice. 
They  then  affected,  or  it  seemed  like  affectation,  to 
let  the  voice  down  to  the  original  modulation,  in  order 
to  run  it  up  to  the  same  pitch  again. 

I  learned  with  great  pleasure  that  they  were  gene- 
rally men  of  enlightened  zeal,  and  entire  sanctity  of 
general  character.  The  morals  of  this  place,  too,  con- 
sidering its  age,  and  the  materials,  and  the  manner  of 
its  formation,  are  astonishingly  regular  and  correct. 
Few  places  have  a  more  strict  police,  more  efficient 
regulations  for  the  enforcement  of  rules  and  good 
order.  There  were  many  institutions  that  had  com- 
menced, and  many  that  were  contemplated,  whose  ob- 
ject was  the  diffusion  of  religious  knowledge,  instruct 
tion,  and  charity.  The  ladies  had  formed  a  bible  and 
charitable  society.  The  members  were  highly  re- 
spectable, and  the  society  was  in  efficient  and  useful 
operation.  Genuine  benevolence  and  unostentatious 
charity  marked  their  exertions.  What  developement 
the  lapse  of  ten  years  may  have  given  to  the  embryo 
projects  of  humane  institutions,  which  were  now  in 
discussion,  I  am  not  informed  to  say.  But  the  town 
has  a  character  for  seriousness,  good  order,  public 
spirit,  and  christian  kindness,  corresponding  to  its  im- 
provement in  other  respects. 


48 


The  state  was  doing,  and  has  done  much  for  the 
interests  of  literature  in  general,  and  for  the  establish- 
ment of  free  schools.  There  is  an  university  at  Athens. 
I  am  not  informed  of  its  present  state.  It  is  well 
known,  that  most  of.  the  institutions  in  the  west,  that 
are  dignified  with  the  name  of  colleges,  are  little  more 
than  primary  schools.  Even  these  are  of  immense 
importance.  There  is  a  general  and  anxious  con- 
sciousness, on  the  part  of  parents,  that  their  children 
must  be  instructed.  The  provision,  which  the  general 
government  has  made  for  the  establishment  of  schools, 
is  well  known  ;  and  in  Ohio,  it  ought  to  be  productive. 
It  is  matter  of  regret,  that  this  provision,  which  looks 
so  noble  in  the  enactment,  has  as  yet  been  almost 
wholly  inefficient. 

Efforts  to  promote  polite  literature  have  already 
been  made  in  this  town.  If  its  only  rival,  Lexington, 
be,  as  she  contends,  the  Athens  of  the  west,  this  place 
is  struggling  to  become  its  Corinth.  There  were, 
eleven  years  since,  two  gazettes,  and  two  booksellers' 
shops,  although  unhappily  novels  were  the  most  salea- 
ble article.  The  rudiments  of  general  taste,  were,, 
however,  as  yet  but  crude  and  unformed.  The  prev- 
alent models  of  grandeur,  beauty,  and  taste,  in  com- 
position and  style,  were  those  that  characterized 
fourth  of  July  orations,  in  the  first  years  of  our  Inde- 
pendence. 

You  would,  perhaps,  wish  to  hear  something  of  the 
distinguished  men,  with  whom  I  met  in  this  place,  and 
its  vicinity.  This  kind  of  personal  delineation,  how- 
ever fashion  may  have  rendered  it  common,  and  al- 
though it  be  generally  the  most  acceptable  article  in 
the  narrative  of  a  traveller,  is  not  only  in  general  an 
invidious,  but  a  very  difficult  task.    You  meet  in  this 


49 

place  with  many  well  informed  people,  from  all  the 
different  states,  and  even  regions  of  the  old  world. 
The  collisions  of  minds,  that  bring  together  different 
opinions,  that  have  been  swayed  by  different  preju- 
dices, and  have  been  compelled  by  comparing  them 
with  other  prejudices,  which  have  become  obvious  to 
them  when  seen  in  another,  to  lay  them  aside ;  the  re- 
sults of  different  modes  of  education  and  thinking  com- 
pared together ; — all  these  things  tend  to  form  a  soci- 
ety, when  it  becomes  new  moulded  and  constituted  in 
such  a  state  of  things,  more  free  from  prejudices,  and 
in  some  respects  more  pleasant,  than  in  those  older 
countries,  where  the  population,  manners,  opinions, 
and  prejudices,  are  more  generally  of  one  class.  Ar- 
dent and  powerful  minds  are  more  generally  allured  to 
the  scene  of  speculation  and  adventure,  which  these 
new  countries  offer.  If  such  minds  are  common  here, 
as  they  evidently  are,  it  will  be  asked,  why  there  is  so 
much  bad  taste  visible  in  the  literary  productions  of 
this  region  and  time.  One  reason  probably  is,  that 
the  most  incompetent  are  commonly  the  most  forward, 
and  their  efforts  the  most  prominent  and  visible.  We 
observe,  too,  in  such  cases,  that  an  unwarrantable  dis- 
dain keeps  back  the  better  informed  and  more  power- 
ful minds  from  displaying  themselves.  That  the  false 
taste,  which  was  prevalent  in  the  newspapers,  in  the 
pulpit,  the  bar,  and  the  legislative  hall,  was  the  result, 
neither  of  the  want  of  talents  nor  taste,  was  sufficient- 
ly obvious  in  all  the  private  circles. 

My  duties  and  my  travels  occupied  me  in  such  a 
manner,  as  to  allow  me  few  opportunities  for  taking 
individual  estimates  of  character.  Chance  brought  me 
in  contact,  and  afterwards  into  considerable  intimacy, 
with  a  gentleman,  of  whom  very  different  portraits 
7 


50 


have  been  drawn,  General  H.  Of  his  urbanity,  and 
general  hospitality  and  kindness,  I  entertain  the  most 
grateful  recollections.  I  could  desire  no  attentions, 
no  facilities  for  discharging  my  duty,  which  he  did 
not  constantly  proffer  me.  His  house  was  opened  for 
public  worship.  He  kept  an  open  table,  to  which 
every  visiter  was  welcomed.  The  table  was  loaded 
with  abundance,  and  with  substantial  good  cheer,  es- 
pecially with  the  different  kinds  of  game.  In  these 
respects  his  house  strongly  reminded  me  of  the  pic- 
tures, which  my  reading  had  presented  me,  of  old  Eng- 
lish hospitality.  He  is  a  small,  and  rather  sallow- 
looking  man,  who  does  not  exactly  meet  the  associa- 
tions that  connect  themselves  with  the  name  of  gene- 
ral. But  he  growls  upon  the  eye,  and  upon  more  inti- 
mate acquaintance.  There  is  something  imposing  in 
the  dignified  simplicity  of  his  manners.  In  the  utter 
want  of  all  show,  and  insignia,  and  trappings,  there  is 
something,  which  finely  comports  with  the  severe 
plainness  of  republicanism.  On  a  fine  farm,  in  the 
midst  of  the  woods,  his  house  was  open  to  all  the 
neighbours,  who  entered  without  ceremony,  and  were 
admitted  to  assume  a  footing  of  entire  equality.  His 
eye  is  brilliant.  There  is  a  great  deal  of  ardour  and 
vivacity  in  his  manner.  He  has  a  copious  fund  of 
that  eloquence  which  is  fitted  for  the  camp  and  for 
gaining  partisans.  As  a  commander,  you  know  in 
what  different  lights  he  has  been  viewed.  Having  no 
capacity  to  form  an  adequate  judgment  upon  this 
point,  I  can  only  say,  that  my  impression  was,  that  his 
merits  in  this  respect  had  not  been  sufficiently  appre- 
ciated. 

At  the  bar,  I  heard  forcible  reasonings,  and  just  con- 
ceptions, and  discovered  much  of  that  cleverness  and 


51 


dexterity  in  management,  which  are  so  common  in  the 
American  bar  in  general.  There  is  here,  as  elsewhere, 
in  the  profession,  a  strong  appetite  to  get  business  and 
money.  I  understood,  that  it  was  popular  in  the 
courts  to  be  very  democratic ;  and  while  in  the  oppo- 
site state  a  lawyer  is  generally  a  dandy,  he  here  affects 
meauness  and  sloveuliness  in  his  dress.  The  lan- 
guage of  the  bar  was  in  many  instances  an  amusing 
compound  of  Yankee  dialect,  southern  peculiarity,  and 
Irish  blarney.  "  Him  w  and  "  me,"  said  this  or  that, 
u  I  done  it,"  and  various  phrases  of  this  sort,  and  images 
drawn  from  the  measuring  and  location  of  land  pur- 
chases ;  and  figures  drawn  from  boating  and  river 
navigation,  were  often  served  up,  as  the  garnish  of 
their  speeches.  You  will  readily  perceive,  that  all 
this  has  vanished  before,  the  improvements,  the  in- 
creasing lights,  and  the  higher  models,  which  have 
arisen  in  the  period  ihat  has  elapsed  between  that 
time  and  this. 

Dr.  D.,  a  man,  I  am  told,  like  Franklin,  originally 
self-taught,  has  made  very  laudable  efforts  for  the  pro- 
motion of  science.  He  is  himself  a  scientific  physi- 
cian, a  respectable  scholar,  and  natural-historian.  He 
has  written  very  accurate  and  detailed  "  Sketches  of 
Cincinnati,"  and  the  region  in  its  vicinity.  His  book 
conveys  very  exact  and  specific  information  upon  the 
subjects,  on  which  it  professes  to  treat.  I  would  re- 
fer you  to  it  for  more  detailed  and  exact  geographi- 
cal and  statistical  information  about  this  region. 

There  was  a  circle  of  ladies  here,  10  whom  I  have 
before  referred,  of  superior  information  and  respecta- 
bility, of  dignity  of  deportment,  and  affectionate  kind- 
ness of  character,  of  which  we  experienced  such  af- 
fecting demonstrations  as  are  well  remembered;  even 


52 


after  this  interval  of  time.  The  elegance  of  the  houses, 
the  parade  of  servants,  the  display  of  furniture,  and 
more  than  all,  the  luxury  of  their  overloaded  tables, 
would  compare  with  the  better  houses  in  the  Atlantic 
cities.  If  there  be  any  difference,  it  is  that  in  these 
new  towns,  there  is  a  gaudiness  and  glitter,  the  result 
of  too  great  a  desire  to  produce  a  striking  effect  upon 
the  eye,  which  betray  a  want  of  just  taste. 

Every  new  inspection  of  the  town,  and  every  ex- 
cursion in  its  vicinity,  gave  me  more  imposing  views 
of  its  resources  and  anticipations.  Improvements  are 
rising  every  day.  Carpenters,  masons,  boat-builders, 
mechanics  of  all  descriptions  were  numerous,  and 
found  ample  occupation,  and  there  were  daily  calls  for 
more. 

In  making  remoter  journies  from  the  town,  beside 
the  rivulets,  and  in  the  little  bottoms,  not  yet  in  culti- 
vation, I  discerned  the  smoke  rising  in  the  woods,  and 
heard  the  strokes  of  the  axe,  the  tinkling  of  bells,  and 
the  baying  of  dogs,  and  saw  the  newly  arrived  emi- 
grant either  rearing  his  log  cabin,  or  just  entered  into 
possession.  It  has  afforded  me  more  pleasing  reflec- 
tions, a  happier  train  of  associations,  to  contemplate 
these  beginnings  of  social  toil  in  the  wide  wilderness, 
than,  in  our  more  cultivated  regions,  to  come  in  view 
of  the  most  sumptuous  mansion.  Nothing  can  be 
more  beautiful  than  these  little  bottoms,  upon  which 
these  emigrants,  if  I  may  so  say,  deposite  their  house- 
hold gods.  Springs  burst  forth  in  the  intervals  be- 
tween the  high  and  low  grounds.  The  trees  and 
shrubs  are  of  the  most  beautiful  kind.  The  brilliant 
red-bird  is  seen  flitting  among  the  shrubs,  or,  perched 
on  a  tree,  seems  welcoming,  in  her  mellow  notes,  the 
emigrant  to  his  abode.    Flocks  of  parroquets  are  glit- 


53 


tering  among  the  trees,  and  grey  squirrels  are  skipping 
from  branch  to  branch.  In  the  midst  of  these  primeval 
scenes,  the  patient  and  laborious  father  fixes  his  family. 
In  a  few  weeks  they  have  reared  a  comfortable  cabin, 
and  other  out  buildings.  Pass  this  place  in  two  years, 
and  you  will  see  extensive  fields  of  corn  and  wheat ;  a 
young  and  thrifty  orchard,  fruit-trees  of  ali  kinds,  the 
guaranty  of  present  abundant  subsistence,  and  ol  future 
luxury.  Pass  it  in  ten  years,  and  the  log  buildings  will 
have  disappeared.  The  shrubs  and  forest  trees  will 
be  gone.  The  Arcadian  aspect  of  humble  and  retired 
abundance  and  comfort,  will  have  given  place  to  a 
brick  house,  with  accompaniments  like  those  that  at- 
tend the  same  kind  of  house,  in  the  olcer  countries. 
By  this  time,  the  occupant,  who  came  there  with,  per- 
haps, a  small  sum  of  money  and  moderate  expectations, 
from  humble  life,  and  with  no  more  than  a  common 
school  education,  has  been  made,  in  succession,  mem- 
ber of  the  assembly,  justice  of  the  peace,  and  finally, 
county  judge.  He  has  long  been  in  the  habit  of 
thinking  of  a  select  society,  and  of  founding  a  family. 
I  admit,  that  the  first  residence  among  the  trees  affords 
the  most  agreeable  picture  to  my  mind ;  and  that 
there  is  an  inexpressible  charm  in  the  pastoral  simpli- 
city of  those  years,  before  pride  and  self-consequence 
have  banished  the  repose  of  their  Eden,  and  when  you 
witness  the  first  struggles  of  social  toil  with  the  barren 
luxuriance  of  nature. 

To  the  eye  of  a  Kentuckian,  the  lofty  skeletons  of 
dead  trees,  the  huge  stumps  that  remain  after  cultiva- 
tion has  commenced,  are  pleasant  circumstances  in 
this  picture.  They  are,  doubtless,  associated  in  his 
mind  with  remembrances  of  his  own  country,  and 
with  the  virgin  freshness  and  exuberance  of  the  soil. 


54 


To  me,  however,  these  are  the  most  disagreeable  ap- 
pendage of  a  new  farm,  in  the  timbered  region  ;  and  it 
is  for  this  reason,  that  I  am  so  much  more  pleased 
With  the  prairie  regions  farther  west;  where  there  are 
no  dead  trees,  nor  stumps,  but  a  clear  stage,  kt  tabula 
rasa,"  and  the  first  aspect  of  cultivation  is  as  smooth, 
as  soft,  as  beautiful,  as  ,t  will  be,  alter  the  lapse  of  a 
century.  The  configuration  of  the  face  of  the  coun- 
try, its  gentle  undulations,  and  occasionally  its  deep 
vallies,  and  that  beautiful  variety,  by  which  nature 
produces  such  an  infinite  diversity  in  its  landscapes, 
will  render  this  a  delightful  country,  when  sufficient 
time  shall  have  elapsed,  to  consume  all  these  trees, 
stumps,  and  logs.  At  present,  the  prairie  regions 
of  Ohio,  on  the  Scioto  and  Mad  River,  and  the  coun- 
try between  the  two  Miamies,  are  the  most  beautiful- 
arid  populous  in  the  state.  The  whole  course  of  the 
Scioto  is  through  a  rich  and  highly  cultivated  re- 
gion. On  its  banks  is  situated  the  very  neat  and 
handsome  town  of  Chilicothe.  Still  higher  on  this 
river  is  Columbus,  the  seat  of  government.  It  is  pre- 
dicted, that  this  river,  united  with  lake  Erie  by  a 
canal,  will  unite  the  lakes  with  the  Onio. 


LETTER  IX. 

Having  exhausted  the  immediate  interest  of  the 
most  prominent  objects  of  curiosity  in  Cincinnati  and 
its  vicinity,  at  the  commencement  of  March,  I  set  out 
on  a  proposed  tour  through  the  state  of  Indiana,  on 
its  front  upon  Ohio,  and  then  crossing  the  Ohio,  to 
return  to  my  family,  through  the  state  of  Kentucky. 
The  weather  was  mild,  and  the  buds  of  the  trees  and 


55 


shrubs  were  beginning  to  swell.  The  previous  weath 
er,  from  the  tenth  of  December,  had  been  more  than 
usually  severe.  The  mercury  had  frequently  fallen 
below  cy  pher.  The  people  had  a  way  of  accounting  for 
this  as  they  had  for  many  other  calamities,  by  saying, 
that  the  hard  winter  had  been  imported  by  the  Yan- 
kees, of  whom  unusual  numbers  had  arrived  the  pre- 
ceding autumn  and  winter.  The  Big  Miami  was  the 
limit  on  the  front,  between  the  state  of  Ohio,  and  the 
then  territory  of  Indiana.  General  Harrison's  fine 
plantation  is  in  the  delta,  which  this  river  makes  with 
the  Ohio.  Having  crossed  this  river  into  Indiana,  I 
found  myself  on  the  vast  and  fertile  bottom  made  by 
the  two  rivers.  I  descended  this  bottom  to  Lawrence- 
burg,  at  this  time  one  of  the  principal  villages  in  the 
territory.  The  soil  here,  and  for  a  considerable  dis- 
tance on  all  sides,  is  highly  fertile,  but  exposed  to  in- 
undation, which,  together  with  its  having  a  character 
for  unhealthiness,  has  hitherto  kept  this  place  in  the 
back  ground.  The  position  evidently  calls  for  a  con- 
siderable town. 

I  here  obtained  letters  of  introduction  through  the 
territory,  and  the  next  morning  I  plunged  into  the 
deep  forest  below  this  town.  I  remember  well  the 
brightness  and  beauty  of  the  morning.  A  white  frost 
had  covered  the  earth  the  preceding  night.  Dense 
white  banks  of  fog,  brilliantly  illuminated  by  a  cloud- 
less sun,  hung  over  the  Ohio.  The  beautiful  red-bird, 
that  raises  its  finest  song  on  a  morning  like  this,  was 
raising  its  mellow  whistle  among  the  copses.  Columns 
of  smoke  rose  from  the  cabins  amidst  the  trees  into 
the  higher  regions  of  the  atmosphere.  A  cheerful 
accompaniment  to  all  similar  scenery,  and  which  has 
impressed  me,  in  its  echoes  ringing  and  dying  away 


56 


in  the  distant  forests,  as  having  a  very  peculiar  effect 
in  the  deep  bottoms  of  the  Ohio  and  Mississippi,  is  the 
loud  and  continued  barking  of  the  numerous  packs  of 
dogs  that  are  kept  there.  They  evidently  feel  animat- 
ed by  the  chetring  influence  of  such  a  morning, 
feel  that  these  vast  forests  are  their  proper  range ; 
and  by  these  continued  barkings  that  echo  through 
the  woods,  they  seem  to  invite  their  masters  to  the 
hunt  and  the  chase. 

On  the  margin  of  a  considerable  stream,  whose 
name,  I  think,  is  the  Hogan,  a  sufficiently  barbarous 
name,  I  encountered  the  first  bear  that  I  had  met  in 
the  woods.  He  seemed  as  little  disposed  to  make  ac- 
quaintance with  me,  as  I  with  him. 

In  this  whole  day's  ride,  I  was  continually  coming 
in  view  of  new  cabins,  or  wagons,  the  inmates  of 
which  had  not  yet  sheltered  themselves  in  cabins. 
Whenever  my  course  led  me  from  the  bottoms  of  the 
Ohio,  I  found  the  bluffs,  which  invariably  skirt  the 
bottoms,  very  ridgy,  and  the  soil  but  indifferent,  and 
of  what  is  here  classed  as  second  rate,  and  covered  gen- 
erally with  a  species  of  oak,  called  post  oak,  indica- 
ting a  cold,  spungy,  and  wet  soil ;  into  which,  softened 
as  it  was  by  the  frost  coming  out  of  it,  my  horse 
sunk  at  every  step  up  to  the  fetlocks  ;  yet  in  this  com- 
paratively poor  and  ridgy  soil,  I  could  hear  on  all 
sides  the  settler's  axe  resounding,  and  the  dogs  bark- 
ing,— snre  indications,  that  the  land  had  been,  as  the 
phrase  is,  w  taken  up/' 

Few  incidents,  that  occur  to  me  as  matters  of  in- 
terest, remain  on  my  memory  of  this  long  trip  on  the 
Indiana  shore.  Most  of  the  newly  arrived  settlers 
that  I  addressed,  were  from  Yankee  land.  As  usual, 
I  refer  you  to  books,  that  treat  professedly  upon  that 


57 

subject  for  precise  geographical  information.  The  in- 
habitants tell  me,  that,  notwithstanding  I  see  so  much 
ordinary  land  in  this  extent  upon  the  Ohio,  there  are 
vast  bodies  of  the  richest  land  in  it,  particularly  up 
the  Wabash  and  its  waters,  where  the  prairies  in  the 
vicinity  of  Fort  Harrison  are  said  to  vie  with  the 
richest  and  most  beautiful  of  the  Illinois  and  Missouri. 
The  greater  portion  of  the  fertile  lands  was  as  yet  un- 
redeemed from  the  Indians.  The  country  was  evi- 
dently settling  with  great  rapidity.  The  tide  of  emi- 
gration from  the  northeast  was  setting  farther  west. 
Ohio  had  already  received  its  first  tide  and  the  wave 
was  rolling  onward.  The  southern  portion  of  the  emi- 
gration seemed  to  entertain  no  small  apprehension, 
that  this  also  would  be  a  Yankee  state.  Indeed  the 
population  was  very  far  from  being  in  a  state  of  mind, 
of  sentiment,  and  affectionate  mutual  confidence,  fa- 
vourable to  commencing  their  lonely  condition  in  the 
woods  in  harmonious  intercourse.  They  were  form- 
ing a  state  government.  The  question  in  all  its 
magnitude,  whether  it  should  be  a  slave-holding  state 
or  not,  was  just  now  agitating.  I  was  often  compel- 
led to  hear  the  question  debated  by  those  in  opposite 
interests,  with  no  small  degree  of  asperity.  Many 
fierce  spirits  talked,  as  the  clamorous  and  passion  te 
are  accustomed  to  talk,  in  such  eases,  about  opposi- 
tion and  u  resistance  unto  blood."  But  the  preponder- 
ance of  more  sober  and  reflecting  views,  those  habits 
of  order  and  quietness,  that  aversion  to  shedding  blood, 
which  so  generally  and  so  honorably  appertain  to  the 
American  character  and  institutions,  operated  in  these 
wildernesses,  among  these  inflamed  and  bitter  spirits, 
with  all  their  positiveness,  ignorance,  and  clashing 
feeling,  and  with  all  their  destitution  of  courts,  and 
-  8 


58 

the  regular  course  of  settled  laws  to  keep  them  from 
open  violence.  The  question  was  not  long  after 
finally  settled  in  peace. 

From  the  observations,  which  I  made,  which  were 
however  partial,  and  confined  to  the  southern  front 
of  the  state,  I  should  have  placed  this  state,  in  point 
of  qualities  of  soil,  behind  Ohio,  Illinois,  or  Missouri. 
But  it  is  here  a  general  impression,  that  this  state  has 
large  districts  of  the  most  fertile  character.  These 
tracts  are  admitted,  as  a  melancholy  drawback,  ap- 
pended to  this  great  advantage,  to  be  sickly.  At  the 
time  I  am  writing,  this  state  is  supposed  to  contain 
nearly  three  hundred  thousand  inhabitants,  a  rate  of 
increase  considerably  more  rapid,  than  that  of  the 
states  still  farther  west.  It  has  a  very  extended  front 
on  the  Ohio,  extends  back  to  the  lakes,  and  its  cen- 
tral outlet  is  the  Wabash,  a  river  highly  favourable 
to  boat  navigation.  At  a  considerable  distance  up 
this  river  is  Vincennes,  which,  when  I  was  there,  was 
the  principal  village  in  the  state.  It  is  situated  pleas- 
antly on  the  Wabash,  surrounded  by  a  beautiful  and 
extensive  prairie.  This  place  is  now  surpassed  by 
Vevay,  which  has  grown  to  be  a  considerable  town.  It 
possesses  circumstances  of  peculiar  interest.  WThen  I 
was  there,  the  village  had  just  commenced.  I  was 
lodged  in  the  house  of  a  respectable  Swiss  gentleman, 
who  had  married  a  wife  from  Kentucky.  Such  are  the 
unions  that  result  from  bringing  together  the  mountain- 
eers of  Switzerland,  and  the  native  daughters  of  the 
west.  The  people  were  prompt  and  general  in  at- 
tending divine  service.  The  next  evening,  there  was  a 
warned  meeting  of  the  inhabitants,  and  the  object  was 
to  locate  the  town-house,  a  market,  and  first,  second, 
and  third,  streets.    I  attended   the  meeting.  The 


59 


night  was  dark  and  rainy.  The  deep  and  rich  bottom, 
the  trees  of  which  had  but  just  been  cut  down,  was  so 
muddy,  that  my  feet  sunk  at  every  rtep  in  the  mud. 
Huge  beech  and  sycamore  trunks  of  trees  so  impeded 
these  avenues  and  streets,  that  were  to  be,  that  I  doubt 
if  a  chaise  could  have  made  its  way,  by  day  light  and 
the  most  careful  driving,  amidst  the  logs.  When  you 
hear  about  market- houses,  and  seminaries,  and  streets 
No.  1,  2,  and  3,  in  the  midst  of  a  wilderness  or  fall- 
en logs,  you  will  have  some  idea  of  the  language  ap- 
propriate to  a  kind  of  speculation,  almost  peculiar  to 
this  country,  that  is  to  say,  town-making.  You  will 
infer  from  this,  too,  what  magnificent  ideas  these 
people  have  with  respect  to  the  future.  I  learned  in 
recently  ascending  the  Ohio,  that  these  splendid  an- 
ticipations are  now  realized,  that  the  town-house, 
market,  and  streets  actually  exist,  and  that  instead 
of  huge  sycamore  trunks,  they  have  now7  blocks  of 
brick  buildings.  Its  relative  position,  with  respect  to 
the  state,  and  to  Cincinnati  and  Louisville,  is  favoura- 
ble to  its  future  advancement. 

But  what  gave  peculiar  interest  to  this  place  was, 
that  it  was  the  resort  of  a  flourishing  colony  from 
Vevay  in  Switzerland.  Although  this  people  could 
not  bring  here  their  glaciers  and  their  Alps,  in  affec- 
tionate remembrance  of  their  ancient  home,  they  have 
brought  hither  their  vines,  their  "simulatam  Tro- 
jam,"  their  Vevay  on  the  Ohio  in  the  midst  of  Ameri- 
can forests.  I  had  seen  vineyards  in  Kentucky  on  a 
small  scale.  But  this  experiment  on  such  a  noble 
scale,  so  novel  in  America,  was  to  me  a  most  inter- 
esting spectacle.  I  was  delighted  with  the  frank  and 
amiable  character  of  the  inhabitants,  giving  me  back 
the  images  and  recollections  of  them,  from  early  rea- 


60 


ding.  At  that  time  they  principally  cultivated  a 
bine  grape,  which,  I  think,  they  called  the  "cape 
grape.  99  The  wine  from  that  grape  was  not  pleasant 
to  me,  though  connoisseurs  assured  me,  that  it  only 
wanted  age  to  be  a  rich  wine.  A  position  more  un- 
like that,  in  which  they  had  cultivated  the  wine  in 
their  own  country,  could  scarcely  be  found.  There 
they  reared  it  on  sharp  declivities  of  gravelly  soil, 
levelled  in  terraces.  It  was  here  on  a  bottom  of  a 
loamy  and  extremely  rich  soil,  on  a  surface  perfectly 
level,  and  at  the  foot  of  a  high  bluff.  The  vine  grows 
here,  indeed,  in  the  rankest  luxuriance,  and  needs 
severe  pruning.  It  overloads  itself  with  an  exube- 
rance of  clusters,  which  still  want  the  high  and  racy 
flavour  of  the  grape  of  the  hills  of  Switzerland.  But 
they  are  introducing  other  vines,  particularly  the 
sweet  water-grape  of  Madeira.  The  cultivation  is 
understood  at  this  time  to  be  in  a  very  prosperou 
state.  From  what  I  have  seen,  I  believe  it  would 
prosper  still  more,  if  they  should  cultivate  a  grape, 
more  indigenous  to  the  soil;  the  u  pine  woods" 
grape  of  Louisiana,  or  the  rich  grape  of  Texas. 

At  a  small  town  at  the  mouth  of  Kentucky  river, 
I  crossed  into  that  state.  I  had  for  some  part  of  the 
day's  ride,  for  a  companion,  a  very  interesting  young 
man  from  Suabia  in  Germany.  Highly  gifted  and 
educated,  he  entertained  and  expressed  very  differ- 
ent views  of  this  country  from  those  of  most  of  the 
European  travellers  of  this  class,  that  we  find  here. 
Neither  given  to  indiscriminate  praise  nor  censure, 
he  saw  and  admitted  how  different  an  asylum  these 
free  and  fertile  regions  offered  to  his  poor  country- 
men, from  the  overpeopled  and  oppressed  countries 
of  Europe. 


61 


In  ascending  the  Kentucky,  I  was  profoundly  im- 
pressed with  that  spectacle,  which  has  been  so  often, 
described,  the  stupendous  height  of  its  limestone 
banks,  from  which  you  look  down  upon  the  waters 
rolling  darkly  below,  as  in  a  subterranean  cavern.  I 
was  struck,  also,  with  the  immense  numbers  of  those 
carrion  birds,  called  turkey  buzzards,  which  I  saw  on 
the  trees,  oa  the  banks  of  this  river.  There  were 
also  great  numbers  of  parroquets,  and  other  birds. 
Kentucky  has  a  great  many  handsome  villages.  Eve- 
ry county  in  the  fertile  districts  has  at  least  one  such. 
On  the  banks  of  the  Ohio,  which  are  exposed  to 
fever  and  ague,  the  inhabitants  have  a  pale  and  sal- 
low cast  of  countenance.  As  soon  as  you  depart 
from  the  Ohio,  and  find  yourself  in  the  region  of  hills 
and  springs,  you  will  nowhere  see  fairer  and  fresher 
complexions,  or  fuller  and  finer  forms,  than  you  see 
in  the  young  men  and  women,  who  are  generally  ex- 
empted from  the  necessity  of  labour.  They  have  a 
mild  and  temperate  climate,  a  country  producing  the 
greatest  abundance,  and  sufficiently  old  to  have  pos- 
sessed itself  of  all  the  comforts  of  life.  The  people 
live  easily  and  plentifully,  and  on  the  u  finest  of  the 
wheat."  The  circumstances,,  under  which  they  are 
born,  tend  to  give  them  the  most  perfect  develope- 
ment  of  person  and  form.  It  struck  me,  that  the 
young  native  Kentuckians  were,  in  general,  the  larg- 
est race  that  I  had  seen.  There  was  obvious,  at 
on  -e,  a  considerable  difference  of  manners  between 
the  people  of  this  and  the  opposite  states,  that  do  not 
possess  slaves.  The  villages  are  full  of  people,  that 
seem  to  have  plenty  of  leisure.  The  bell  of  the  court- 
house— for  their  villages  were  generally  destitute  of  a 
church — would,  on  a  half  hour's  previous  notice,  gen- 


6£ 

erally  assemble  a  full  audience,  to  what  is  here  tech- 
nically  called  (i  a  preaching."  It  was  easy  to  see,  in 
the  complexion,  manner,  and  dress  of  the  audience, 
a  greater  exemption  from  personal  labour,  than  I  had 
witnessed  elsewhere.  Striking  marks  of  rustic  opu- 
lence appear  impressed  upon  every  thing  here. 
There  is  a  great  difference  in  the  manners  of  the  tav- 
erns here,  from  those  of  the  Atlantic  towns.  The 
public  houses  assemble  a  great  number  of  well-dressed 
boarders,  townsmen,  and  strangers.  The  meals  are 
served  up  with  no  small  degree  of  display  and  splen- 
dour. The  lady  hostess  is  conducted  by  some  dandy 
to  her  chair,  at  the  head  of  the  table,  which  seems  to 
be  considered  a  post  of  no  small  honour,  and  which 
she  fills  with  a  suitable  degree  of  dignity. 

I  felt  grieved  to  see  so  many  fine  young  men  ex- 
empted from  labour,  having  no  liberal  studies  and 
pursuits  to  fill  up  their  time,  and  falling,  almost  of 
course,  into  the  prevailing  vices  of  the  West — gam- 
bling and  intemperance.  I  endeavoured,  more  than 
once,,  as  opportunity  offered,  gently  to  start  the  dis- 
course in  the  strain  of  remonstrance  and  admonition. 
The  parents  lamented  the  fact,  and  the  children  were 
ready  more  frankly  to  confess  the  charge,  than  to  re- 
form. They  spoke  of  their  failing  with  the  tone  of 
penitents,  who  confess,  deplore,  but  mean  to  sin 
again. 

On  an  evening,  when  I  performed  divine  service,  a 
young  man  had  misbehaved,  through  intoxication. 
His  minister,  a  Baptist,  reproved  him  in  the  morning. 
He  did  not  palliate  or  deny  the  charge;  admitted 
that  it  was  shameful ;  but  said,  that  being  a  prodigal 
in  a  good  and  respectable  family,  he  was  subject  in 
consequence  to  bitter  reflections,  and  that,  particular- 


63 


ly,  the  evening  before,  he  had  felt  a  painful  sinking 
before  he  went  to  hear  the  word,  and  had  found  it 
necessary  to  take  a  little  of  the  cheering  juice  of  the 
gra»pe  ;  and  that  his  optics,  as  he  had  often  felt  before, 
had  been  so  disordered,  that  he  saw  things  double. 
He  ended  by  saying,  that  the  minister,  whom  he  had 
often  seen  in  the  same  predicament,  must  know  how 
to  make  his  excuse. 

The  ease  and  opulence,  that  are  so  visible  in  the 
appearance  of  the  people,  are  equally  so  in  the 
houses,  their  appendages,  and  furniture.  Travelling 
through  the  villages  in  this  fertile  region,  where  the 
roads  are  perfectly  good,  and  where  every  elevation 
brings  you  in  view  of  a  noble  farm-house,  in  the  midst 
of  its  orchards,  and  sheltered  by  its  fine  groves  of 
forest  and  sugar-maple  trees,  you  would  scarcely  re- 
alize, that  the  first  settlers  of  the  country,  and  they 
men  of  mature  age  when  they  settled  it,  were,  some 
of  them,  still  living.  Every  thing  is  young  or  old 
only  by  comparison.  The  inhabitants,  who  are  more 
enthusiastic  and  national  than  the  other  western 
people,  and  look  with  a  proud  disdain  upon  the 
younger  states,  designate  their  own  state,  with  the 
veneration  due  to  age,  by  the  name  of  66  Old  Ken- 
tucky." To  them  it  is  the  home  of  all  that  is  good, 
fertile,  happy,  and  great.  As  the  English  are  said 
to  go  to  battle  with  a  song  extolling  their  roast  beef, 
instead  of  saying  their  prayers,  so  the  Kentuckian, 
when  about  to  encounter  danger,  rushes  upon  it,  cry- 
ing, w  Hurra  for  old  Kentucky."  Every  one  in  the 
western  country  has  heard  the  anecdote,  that  a  Meth- 
odist preacher  from  this  state,  in  another  state,  was 
preaching,  and  expatiating  upon  the  happiness  of 
heaven.     Having  gradually  advanced  towards  the 


64 


cap  of  his  climax,  ki  In  short,"  said  he,  "  my  brethren, 
to  say  all  in  one  word,  heaven  is  a  Kentuck  of  a 
place." 

At  this  time  the  people  were  in  the  height  of  their 
sugar-making,  a  kind  of  Saturnalia,  like  the  time  of 
vintage  in  France.  The  cheerful  fires  in  the  groves, 
the  respectable  looking  ladies,  who  were  present  with 
their  servants,  superintending  the  operations,  es- 
pecially when  seen  by  the  bright  glare  which  th  ir 
fires  cast  upon  every  object  by  night,  rendered  it  a 
very  interesting  spectacle. 

In  advancing  towards  Frankfort,  I  generally  per- 
formed divine  service  every  night,  and  found  it  ne- 
cessary only  to  give  the  usual  half  hour's  notice,  to 
assemble  a  large  audience — a  sufficient  proof,  that 
the  people  have  abundance  of  leisure,  and  that  they 
have  the  usual  portion  of  curiosity.  New  England 
has  every  where  at  the  south  the  reputation  of  being 
the  land  of  troublesome  inquisitivenesss  ;  but  it  strikes 
me,  that  this  people  possess  the  spirit  at  least  in  an 
equal  degree.  A  stranger,  if  understood  to  be  such, 
is  exposed  to  being  annoyed  with  questions  by  the 
country  people,  and  especially  to  be  invited  to  "  swap 
horses,"  as  the  phrase  is.  Horse  trading,  indeed, 
seems  to  be  a  favourite  and  universal  amusement 
through  the  country. 

I  entered  Frankfort  in  a  violent  shower  of  rain. 
The  town,  seen  through  such  a  medium,  did  not  show 
to  advantage.  Contemplated  by  the  bright  sun  of 
the  next  day,  it  seemed  not  a  large,  but  a  neat  town, 
having  many  houses  that  showed  taste  and  opulence. 
Having  been  some  time  the  metropolis,  it  was  of 
course  a  growing  place.  The  inhabitants,  male  and 
female,  were  remarkable  for  their  display  in  their 


65 


dress.  I  performed  divine  service  in  the  capitoh 
The  audience  was  numerous,  and  gaily  dressed.  A 
gentleman  preached  in  the  afternoon,  who  was  a 
judge,  had  been  a  member  of  congress,  and  was  a 
preacher  in  the  Baptist  profession.  I  had  never  yet 
seen  a  man,  discharging  the  duties  of  a  christian  min- 
ister, so  splendidly  dressed.  He  delivered  an  eloquent 
and  impressive  sermon,  garnished,  however,  with 
some  tricks  of  oratory,  probably  learned  at  Washing- 
ton, that  might  have  been  spared.  The  venerable 
governor,  to  whom  I  had  letters,  was  not  in  town. 
You  have  read,  that  he  distinguished  himself  in  the 
late  frontier  war.  He  is  remarkable  for  his  attention 
to  the  institutions  of  religion,  for  his  excellent  moral 
character,  and  for  the  simplicity  and  plainness  of  his 
habits.  Having  seen  all  that  struck  me  as  matter  of 
interest  in  this  town  and  vicinity,  after  two  days' 
stay  I  took  the  road  to  Lexington.  It  is  a  fine  road, 
and  I  remarked  the  same  series  of  good  houses,  pleas- 
ant farms,  and  by  night  the  bright  fires  of  the  sugar- 
camps,  which  had  struck  me  before,  in  travelling 
through  the  country.  Vegetation  is  just  beginning  to 
unfold.  The  aspect  of  the  landscape  is  fertile  and 
pleasant.  The  air  is  soft.  I  scarcely  recollect  to 
have  had  a  more  pleasant  ride,  than  that  from  Frank- 
fort to  Lexington. 


LETTER  X.— LEXINGTON. 

Lexington  is  situated  in  the  centre  of  what  the 
Kentuckians  affirm  to  be  the  finest  body  of  land  in  the 
world.  I  believe  no  country  can  show  finer  upland  ; 
and  for  a  great  distance  from  the  town,  plantation  ad- 

9 


66 


joins  plantation,  in  all  directions.     The  timber  is  of 
that  class  that  denotes  the  richest  soil.     The  wheat 
fields  equal  in  beauty  those  of  the  far-famed  county  of 
Lancaster,  in  Pennsylvania.    I  am  now  in  the  region 
where  the  farmers  designate  their  agriculture  by  the 
term,  "  raising  a  crop."    Where  farmers,  with  a  small 
number  of  hands,  turn  their  attention,  equally,  to  all 
the  different  articles  raised  in  a  country,  this  kind  of 
farming  is  not  called  "  raising  a  crop."    They  do  this, 
when  a  planter,  with  a  gang  of  negroes,  turns  his  prin- 
cipal attention  to  the  stap'es  of  the  country — hemp, 
flour,  and  tobacco.    The  greater  part  of  the  boats  from 
this  state  are  loaded  with  these  articles.    But  the  small 
farmers,  also,  send  to  market  quantities  of  the  same 
assortment  of  products,  as  are  carried  from  Ohio. 
Many  of  these  articles  are  now  faithfully  inspected, 
and  bear  a  respectable  competition  with  the  same  arti- 
cles in  the  market,  from  the  Atlantic  states.  The 
country  is  not,  to  be  sure,  the  same  paradise  that  the 
"  Mountain  Muse,"  and  other  pastoral  poems,  and 
w  Histories  of  Kentucky,"  have  represented  it.  There 
is  a  balance  of  inconveniences -and  defects,  appended 
to  all  earthly  paradises.    But  when  the  first  emigrants 
entered  this  country,  in  its  surface  so  gently  waving, 
with  such  easy  undulations,  so  many  clear  limestone 
springs  and  branches,  so  thickly  covered  with  cane, 
with  pawpaw,  and  a  hundred  species  of  flowering 
trees  and  shrubs,  among  which  fed  innumerable  herds 
of  deer,  and  buffaloes,  and  other  game,  as  well  as  wild 
turkeys  and  other  wild  fowl,  and  this  delightful  as- 
pect of  the  country  directly  contrasted  with  the  sterile 
regions  of  North  Carolina)  which  they  had  left,  no 
wonder  that  it  appeared  to  them  a  paradise.    I  was 
•much  amused  to  see  the  countenances  of  some  of  the 


67 


hoary  patriarchs  of  this  country,  with  whom  I  staid, 
brighten  instantly,  as  they  began  to  paint  the  aspect  of 
this  land  of  flowers  and  game,  as  they  saw  it  when 
they  first  arrived  here.  Enthusiasm  and  strong  ex- 
citement naturally  inspire  eloquence,  and  these  people 
become  eloquent  in  relating  their  early  remembrances 
of  the  beauty  of  this  country.  Indeed,  the  first  settle- 
ment of  the  country,  the  delightful  scenes,  which  it 
opened,  the  singular  character  of  the  first  adventurers, 
who  seem  to  have  been  a  compound  of  the  hero,  the 
philosopher,  the  farmer,  and  the  savage ;  the  fierce 
struggle,  which  the  savages  made  to  retain  this  de- 
lightful domain,  and  which,  before  that  struggle  was 
settled,  gave  it  the  name  of  "  the  bloody  ground," — 
these  circumstances,  conspire  to  designate  this  country, 
as  the  theatre,  and  the  time  of  its  settlement,  as  the 
period,  of  romance.  The  adventures  of  Daniel  Boon 
would  make  no  mean  show  beside  those  of  other  he- 
roes and  adventurers.  But  although  much  has  been 
said  in  prose,  and  sung  in  verse,  about  Daniel  Boon, 
this  Achilles  of  the  West  wants  a  Homer,  worthily  to 
celebrate  his  exploits. 

Lexington  is  a  singularly  neat  and  pleasant  town, 
on  a  little  stream  that  meanders  through  it.  It  is  not 
so  large  and  flourishing  as  Cincinnati,  but  has  an  air  of 
leisure  and  opulence,  that  distinguishes  it  from  the 
busy  bustle  and  occupation  of  that  town.  In  the  cir- 
cles where  I  visited,  literature  was  most  commonly  the 
topic  of  conversation.  The  window-seats  presented 
the  blank  covers  of  the  new  and  most  interesting  pub- 
lications. The  best  modern  works  had  been  generally 
read.  The  university,  which  has  since  become  so 
famous,  was,  even  then,  taking  a  higher  standing,  than 
the  other  seminaries  in  the  western  country.  There 


68 


was  generally  an  air  oi  ease  and  politeness  in  the  social 
intercourse  of  the  inhabitants  of  this  town,  which  evinc- 
ed the  cultivation  of  taste  and  good  feeling.  In  effect, 
Lexington  has  taken  the  tone  of  a  literary  place,  and 
may  be  fitly  called  the  Athens  of  the  West.  One  un- 
pleasant circumstance  accompanied  this  prevalence  of 
literary  conversation.  Smatterers,  who  mixed  in  these 
circles,  without  reading  and  without  reflection,  caught 
from  conversation  a  few  loose  ideas  of  the  systems  and 
discussions  of  the  day.  Chemistry,  geology,  religion, 
— all  subjects,  profane  and  sacred,  passed  in  review 
before  them.  Each  subject,  in  its  turn,  furnished  ma- 
terials for  doubting,  theorizing,  and  finally  settling  the 
question.  In  such  minds,  such  an  order  of  things 
would  naturally  excite  a  most  active  fermentation. 
Hence,  the  conversation  was  apt  to  take  the  form  of 
dogmatism  and  disputation. 

Dr.  B.  at  this  time  presided  over  the  university, 
with  great  diligence  and  effect.  The  several  classes  in 
the  institution  were  engaged  in  the  same  studies  with 
the  pupils  of  the  eastern  colleges.  Classical  literature 
had  been,  as  yet,  but  a  matter  of  secondary  considera- 
tion. The  institution  at  this  time  has  high  fame  as  a 
seminary,  and  the  number  of  students,  especially  med- 
ical ones,  is  respectable.  A  bitter  feud  seems  to  have 
been  excited  in  respect  to  the  religious  principles,  sup- 
posed to  be  inculcated  there.  A  very  great  majority 
of  the  ministers  of  the  state,  of  all  denominations,  are 
in  opposition  to  those  supposed  opinions.  It  is  to  be 
regretted,  that  the  interests  of  literature  should  in  this 
way  be  associated  with  religion. 

In  all  the  churches  of  this  town,  I  observed  full  and 
attentive  audiences,  and  a  greater  resemblance  to 
the  regular  addictedness  to  attending  public  worship? 


63 

which  prevails  in  New  England,  than  I  had  seen  since 
I  left  it.  To  all  the  objects  of  christian  charity,  that 
began  about  that  time  to  be  started  at  the  North,  they 
gave  a  prompt  and  liberal  attention.  A  revolution 
seems  about  this  time  to  have  taken  place  in  the  taste 
of  the  people,  in  respect  to  the  requisites  for  pulpit  elo- 
quence. It  had  been  the  custom  to  prefer  that  kind 
of  speaking,  to  which  allusion  has  been  made,  when 
speaking  upon  the  same  subject  in  regard  to  Cincin- 
nati. Great  power  of  voice  seems  to  have  been  the 
first  attribute,  and  to  have  occupied,  in  their  estima- 
tion, as  great  a  space  in  good  speaking,  as  delivery  did 
in  the  judgment  of  Demosthenes.  They  had  the  same 
way  of  running  a  tune  from  low  and  moderate  tones, 
up  to  the  highest  pitch  of  the  voice;  and  then  gradu- 
ally to  subside  to  low  and  temperate  modulation. 
Two  or  three  young  clergymen  from  the  North, 
of  educated  and  disciplined  minds,  and  accomplished 
speakers,  had  passed  through  the  state,  had  preached 
frequently,  and  been  highly  popular.  The  people  had 
heard  piety  and  good  sense  expressed  in  a  calm  and 
equable  manner.  These  men  had  been  above  the 
spasmodic  tricks  of  oratory.  The  more  gentle  forms 
of  pulpit  elocution  that  prevail  at  the  North,  had  in 
this  way  obtained  the  ascendancy.  It  will  be  readily 
conceived  by  those  who  have  heard  the  late  most  ac- 
complished and  pious  Mr.  L.,  whose  sudden  decease  at 
New  Orleans  was  so  much  regretted,  what  effect  his 
thrilling  addresses  would  have  upon  so  ardent  and  en- 
thusiastic a  people,  as  those  of  Kentucky. 

It  is  well  known,  that  a  jealousy,  almost  a  hatred 
of  Yankees,  prevailed  among  the  mass  of  this  people, 
during  the  late  war.  This  feeling,  which  had  been 
fostered  for  years,  seemed  to  be  now  dying  away. 


70 


The  popularity  of  these  ministers  had  doubtless  con5- 
tributed  to  extinguish  it.  A  respectable  traveller 
from  New  England,  was  sure  to  receive  every  de- 
served courtesy.  Indeed,  the  natural  progress  of 
literature  and  philosophy,  which  are  diffusing  their 
lights  on  all  sides,  is  to  do  away  these  bitter  and  bane- 
ful jealousies.  Fatal  will  it  be  to  the  several  members 
of  this  great  confederation,  if  the  better  informed,  and 
those  who  give  tone  to  public  feeling  and  sentiment, 
do  not  feel  the  necessity  of  attempting  to  eradicate 
every  fibre  of  this  root  of  bitterness  from  our  soil. 
In  times  of  danger  and  excitement,  which  may  come 
even  to  us,  nothing  is  so  terrible  as  this  feeling,  excit- 
ing distrust  and  destructive  suspicion  in  the  cabinet 
and  in  the  field.  There  is  but  too  much  of  this  feel- 
ing yet  existing,  as  I  shall  have  occasion  to  remark 
elsewhere.  A  native  of  the  North  has  no  conception 
of  the  nature  and  extent  of  this  feeling,  until  he  finds 
himself  in  the  South  and  West.  I  have  felt  grieved  to 
see,  that  too  many  of  our  books  of  travels,  and  most 
of  the  accounts  of  the  West,  carried  to  the  East,  tend 
to  foster  this  spirit  toward  these  regions,  on  our  part. 
The  manner  in  which  the  slave  question  is  agitated, 
keeps  the  embers  glowing  under  the  ashes. 

In  my  whole  tour  through  this  state,  I  experienc- 
ed a  frank  and  cordial  hospitality.  I  entered  it  with 
a  share  of  those  prejudices,  which  I  had  probably  fos- 
tered unconsciously.  I  was  aware  how  strongly  they 
,  existed  in  the  minds  of  the  people,  with  regard  to  the 
inhabitants  of  the  North.  The  general  kindness  with 
which  I  was  every  where  received,  impressed  me  so 
much  the  more  forcibly,  for  being  unexpected.  The 
Kentuckians,  it  must  be  admitted,  are  a  high  minded 
people,  and  possess  the  stamina  of  a  noble  character. 


It 

It  cannot  be  said  correctly,  as  is  said  in  journals  and 
geographies,  that  they  are  too  recent  and  too  various 
in  their  descent  and  manners,  to  have  a  distinct  char- 
acter as  a  people.  They  are  generally  of  one  descent, 
and  are  scions  from  a  noble  stock — the  descendants 
from  affluent  and  respectable  planters  from  Virginia 
and  North  Carolina.  They  are  in  that  condition  in 
life,  which  is,  perhaps,  best  calculated  to  develope 
high-mindedness,  and  self-respect.  We  aim  not  in 
these  remarks  at  eulogy,  but  to  pay  tribute,  where 
tribute  is  due.  It  is  granted,  there  are  ignorant,  sav- 
age, and  abandoned  men,  among  the  lower  classes  in 
Kentucky.  Where  are  there  not  such  ?  There  is  a 
distinct  and  striking  moral  physiognomy  to  this 
people  ;  an  enthusiasm,  a  vivacity,  and  ardour  of  char- 
acter, courage,  frankness,  generosity,  that  have  been 
developed  with  the  peculiar  circumstances  under  which 
they  have  been  placed.  These  are  the  incitements  to 
all  that  is  noble  in  a  people.  Happy  for  them,  if  they 
leam  to  temper  and  moderate  their  enthusiasm,  by  re- 
flection and  good  sense.  "  O  fortunatos  nimium,  sua 
si  bona  norint."  Happy  for  them,  if  they  more 
strongly  felt  the  necessity  of  training  their  numerous 
and  ardent  youth  to  virtue  and  industry.  Possessed 
of  such  physical  and  moral  capabilities,  and  from  their 
imperfect  education,  their  habits  of  idleness,  extrava- 
gance, and  gambling,  but  too  likely  to  turn  their  per- 
verted and  misapplied  powers  against  themselves  and 
their  country,  every  thing  depends  upon  the  restrain- 
ing influence  of  right  views,  on  the  part  of  the  parents. 
There  is  a  loud  call  for  the  stern  exercise  of  parental 
monition  and  authority.  No  single  effort  could  have 
such  an  immense  bearing  upon  the  future  destinies  of 
this  state,  as  an  effort  to  repress  gambling  and  dissipa- 


n 


tion,  and  to  render  those  who  practise  these  vices,  con- 
temptible in  the  eyes  of  the  young.  A  more  alarming 
prospect  cannot  be  opened  to  a  country,  than  to  have 
a  great  many  active,  intelligent,  and  high-spirited 
young  men,  without  object  or  pursuit,  let  loose  with 
all  their  passions,  and  all  their  ambition,  to  prey  upon 
society.  In  individual  cases  this  impression  has 
doubtless  been  felt,  for  great  exertions  are  making,  by 
individuals  to  educate  their  children.  Private  tutors 
are  employed.  New  seminaries  are  started.  But  still 
the  villages  are  but  too  much  filled  with  idle  and  dis- 
sipated young  men,  whose  downward  course  inspires 
so  much  the  more  regret,  from  their  possessing  fine 
forms,  great  health  and  energy  of  body,  and  activity 
and  capacity  of  mind. 

Upon  none  of  the  western  states  is  the  obligation  to 
labour  for  the  disciplining,  purifying,  and,  if  I  may  so 
say,  of  redeeming  the  young,  so  solemnly  imposed,  as 
upon  this.  The  fathers  of  the  young  men,  in  many 
instances,  had  high  standing  and  influence  in  the  state 
from  which  they  emigrated.  Not  a  few  of  them 
obtained  fame,  in  the  war  of  the  revolution.  Their 
children  inherit  their  fame,  and  that  confident  and 
uncontrolled  spirit,  which  is  so  often  observed  to  be- 
long to  the  Virginia  character.  They  seem  to  feel 
that  they  have  an  hereditary  claim  to  command,  place, 
and  observance.  This  perfect  repose  of  self-confi- 
dence is  in  fact  their  good  star.  I  have  often  seen  one 
of  these  young  men,  in  the  new  states  farther  west, 
with  no  other  qualifications  than  that  ease  and  perfect 
command  of  all  that  they  knew,  which  result  from 
self-satisfaction,  step  down  into  the  44  moving  water," 
before  the  tardy,  bashful,  and  self-criticising  young  man 
from  the  North  had  made  up  his  mind  to  attempt  t© 


73 


avail  himself  of  the  opportunity.  11  Sua  dextra  "  is  the 
constant  motto,  self-repose  the  guardian  genius  of  the 
Kt>ntuckian,  which  often  stand  him  in  stead  of  better 
talents  and  qualifications.  It  is  at  last  discovered,  that 
in  our  country,  the  confident  and  bustling  take  place 
and  office  by  violence. 

Besides,  Kentucky  is  proudly  exalted,  as  a  common 
mother  of  the  western  states.  It  seems  to  be  general- 
ly understood,  that  birth  and  rearing  in  that  state, 
constitute  a  kind  of  prescriptive  claim  upon  office,  as 
formerly  birth  in  Old  Spain  did,  to  office  in  her  colo- 
nies. Hence,  from  the  falls  of  St.  Anthony  to  the 
gulph  of  Mexico,  and  from  the  Allegany  hills  to  the 
Rocky  Mountains,  the  character  of  this  state  has  a 
certain  preponderance.  Her  modes  of  thinking  and 
action  dictate  the  fashion  to  the  rest.  The  peculiar 
hardihood,  energy,  and  enthusiasm  of  her  character, 
will  tend  long  to  perpetuate  this  empire.  It  is  only 
necessary  to  have  been  as  deeply  familiar  as  I  have 
been,  with  the  language  and  feelings  of  the  people  of 
all  walks,  in  these  immense  regions,  to  have  seen  the 
traces  of  this  preponderance  of  her  character ;  to  have 
seen  her  stamp  marked  upon  the  prevalent  fashions. 
No  one,  at  this  time  of  the  day,  can  fail  to  have  fore- 
seen, what  this  vast  valley  is  one  day  to  become. 
The  sober  and  thinking  men  of  this  state,  aware  of 
their  bearing  upon  its  future  character,  will  feel  how 
earnestly  they  are  bound  to  watch  over  a  rising  gen- 
eration, which  will  possess  such  an  influence. 

Their  enthusiasm  of  character  is  very  observable,  in 
the  ardour  with  which  all  classes  of  the  people  express 
themselves,  in  respect  to  their  favourite  views  and 
opinions.  The  feelings  of  the  people  naturally  tend 
to  extremes.  Hear  them  rate  their  favourite  preacher. 
10 


74 


He  is  the  most  pious  and  powerful  preacher  in  the 
country.  Their  orators  and  their  statesmen,  in  elo- 
quence and  abilities  surpass  all  others.  The  village 
politicians  have  an  undoubting  and  plenary  faith,  that 
whatever  measures  the  Kentucky  delegation  espouse 
in  Congress,  not  only  ought  to  prevail,  but  will  pre- 
vail. The  long  line  of  superlatives,  the  possession  of 
the  best  horse,  dog,  gun,  wife,  statesman,  and  country, 
are  felt  to  belong  to  them  in  course  ;  and  an  ardent 
healthy  race  of  young  men,  not  enough  travelled  to 
have  become  the  victims  of  a  fastidious  and  self-criti- 
cizing spirit,  not  afflicted,  as  is  common  with  the  un- 
travelied,  with  bash  fulness,  and  yet  possessing  the 
crude  rudiments  and  first  principles  of  all  kinds  of 
knowledge, — such  are  qualified,  according  to  their 
early  habits  and  the  impulses  given  them,  to  become 
the  blessings  or  the  scourge  of  their  country.  So  long 
as  Kentucky  aspires  to  stamp  the  impress  of  her  char- 
acter and  institutions  upon  the  country  that  is  growing 
up  in  the  valley  of  the  Mississippi,  and  so  long  as  she 
has  this  aptitude  for  doing  it,  so  long  ought  all  her 
•  ?  good  and  true  men,"  to  overlook  these  young  men, 
that  she  sends  abroad,  to  form  the  character  and  fill 
the  offices  of  the  other  western  states. 

The  Kentucky  planters  assert,  that  whatever  article 
Old  Kentucky  turns  her  chief  attention  to  raising,  is 
sure  to  glut  the  market  for  that  year.  It  would  be 
remarked,  perhaps,  that  flour,  hemp,  or  tobacco,  were 
low  in  the  market.  They  immediately  find  a  solution 
in  the  fact  that  the  Kentucky  crop  has  arrived.  In 
truth,  the  astonishing  productiveness  of  their  good 
lands,  and  the  great  extent  of  their  cultivation,  almost 
justify  such  conclusions. 


75 

I  should  be  glad  to  give  you  some  general  ideas  of  the 
state  of  religion  and  morals.  But  a  journey  of  a  few 
weeks,  would  enable  me  to  convey  but  very  loose  and 
general  ideas  upon  the  subject.  I  had  much  conversa- 
tion with  the  ministers  and  members  of  the  different 
denominations.  Their  estimates  were  apt  to  be  grad- 
uated to  their  denomination,  and  to  vary  as  I  consult- 
ed different  ones.  There  is  a  considerable  number  of 
permanent  societies.  The  Baptists  and  Presbyterians 
seemed  to  be  the  prevailing  sects ;  though  the  Meth- 
odists were  labouring  with  their  usual  zeal  and  suc- 
cess. They  find  considerable  impediment  to  their 
progress,  in  their  general  and  decided  opposition  to 
slavery  ;  a  point  upon  which  this  people  is  peculiarly 
sensitive.  This  and  the  neighbouring  state  of  Tennes- 
see have  given  origin  to  a  new  sect,  called  "  Cumber- 
land Presbyterians."  I  am  not  sufficiently  informed  of 
their  tenets,  to  be  able  to  give  you  an  idea  of  the  shades 
of  difference  between  them  and  the  Presbyterians  from 
whom  they  seceded.  They  describe  themselves,  in 
point  of  speculation,  to  agree  with  the  Arminians.  In 
their  manner  of  preaching,  and  especially  in  their  vo- 
ciferousness,  they  copy  the  Methodists,  but  outdo  their 
model.  They  seem  to  possess  the  juvenile  ardour  and 
confidence,  that  appertain  to  most  of  the  new  sects, 
and  have  the  same  zeal  to  make  proselytes.  Those 
that  I  heard  preach  were  more  deficient  in  literature 
and  discipline  than  the  Methodists.  They  are  making 
great  exertions  to  establish  a  seminary,  where  the 
rough  timber,  which  they  work  into  the  sanctuary, 
may  be  hewed  witli  the  "  axe  of  the  prophets." 

The,  people  are  eag&P'to  attend  public  worship,,  es- 
pecially when  performed  by  strangers.  This  insatia- 
ble curiosity,  this  eagerness  for  novelty,  which  is  so 


76 


discouraging  to  the  settled  clergy,  and  which  so  strong- 
ly marks  the  American  people  generally,  is  a  passion  in 
this  state.  The  people  have  an  excitability  and  viva- 
city, like  the  French.  Unhappily  enthusiasm  is  likely 
to  be  fickle.  Feelings  that  are  so  easily  and  highly 
excited,  are  apt  soon  to  subside.  It  is  melancholy  to 
consider,  that  the  ancient  character  for  permanence, 
which  our  societies  used  to  have,  is  passing  away  in 
all  directions.  The  tie  between  minister  and  people, 
which  used  to  be  considered  like  the  matrimonial,  is 
now  easily  dissolved,  and  the  divorce  is  granted  for 
trifling  causes.    It  is  eminently  so  here. 

I  shall  have  occasion  elsewhere,  to  remark  upon 
the  moving  or  migratory  character  of  the  western 
people  generally,  and  of  this  state  in  particular. 
Though  they  have  generally  good  houses,  they  might 
almost  as  well,  like  the  Tartars,  dwell  in  tents.  Every 
thing  shifts  under  your  eye.  The  present  occupants 
sell,  pack  up,  depart.  Strangers  replace  them.  Be- 
fore they  have  gained  the  confidence  of  their  neigh- 
bours, they  hear  of  a  better  place,  pack  up,  and  follow 
their  precursors.  This  circumstance  adds  to  the  insta- 
bility of  connexions,  and  more  especially  the  ministe- 
rial one,  which  requires  such  a  length  of  time  to  ac- 
quire its  proper  strength.  Although  I  universally 
heard  religion  spoken  of  with  respect, — although  they 
seem  to  admit,  that  in  some  form,  it  is  necessary  to 
the  peace  and  order  of  society,  yet  they  think  much 
less  of  the  necessity  of  a  minister,  than  the  people  at 
the  North.  A  marked  proof  of  it  is,  that  it  is  by  no 
means  universal,  or  considered  indispensable,  to  have  a 
minister  attend  at  funerals.  You  know  with  what 
horror  it  would  be  regarded  at  the  North,  the  carry- 
ing off  the  dead  without  the  voice  of  prayer.  It  is  a 
common  omission  here. 


77 


Of  their  statesmen  and  public  speakers,  except  their 
ministers,  I  cannot  speak  from  personal  knowledge. 
They  have  one  star,  at  least  in  the  estimation  of  every 
genuine  son  of  the  West,  of  the  first  magnitr.de.  When 
I  was  at  Lexington,  he  had  just  returned  from  Ghent, 
had  been  fatigued  v\  ith  receiving  company,  and  I  of 
course  did  not  desire  an  introduction.  It  would, 
therefore,  be  assuming  too  much  to  speak  of  him.  It 
seems  to  be  generally  conceded,  that  as  an  orator,  he 
received  his  diploma  from  nature.  In  the  depth  and 
sweetness  of  his  voice,  it  is  said  he  has  no  compeers ; 
aud  in  the  gracefulness  of  his  enunciation  and  manner, 
few  equals.  Although  he  was  not  publicly  educated, 
yet  it  is  far  from  being  true,  that  he  is  not  a  scholar, 
and  that  he  is  not  possessed  of  classical  taste  and  dis- 
cernment. But,  because  the  report  has  gone  abroad, 
that  he  is  an  orator  nature-taught,  there  are  hundreds 
of  idle  and  arrogant  young  men  in  the  West,  who 
draw  a  most  preposterous  conclusion  against  classical 
learning,  and  especially  Latin  and  Greek.  They  de- 
cry colleges  of  course,  and  the  long  and  patient  dis- 
cipline and  training  of  these  institutions.  Even  were 
it  true,  that  the  gentleman  in  question  is  not  a  classi- 
cal scholar  himself,  a  great  and  intellectual  man  he 
undoubtedly  is,  and  he  shows  his  estimate  of  the  im- 
portance of  these  studies,  by  engaging  and  employing 
the  best  classical  scholars  for  the  instruction  of  his 
children.  Were  it  otherwise,  it  wrould  be  absurd  to 
infer  from  one  brilliant  specimen  of  success  without 
training,  that  it  is  unnecessary.  For  the  one  prize  so 
obtained,  there  would  be  a  thousand  blanks.  Brilliant 
and  successful  as  he  may  be,  it  does  by  no  means  ap- 
pear, that  he  would  not  have  been  more  so,  had  he 
added  to  native  vigour,  feeling,  eloquence,  tone,  and 


78 


manner,  the  high  finish,  polish,  and  discipline  of  clas- 
sical instruction.  If  he  now  thrills  his  audience  at 
Washington,  what  limits  could  have  been  assigned  to 
his  success,  had  he  grafted  upon  his  own  fine  stock 
the  perennial  scions  of  the  Greeks  and  Romans. 

The  geography  of  Kentucky  is  generally  known. 
The  great  outlets  are  Maysville,  at  the  upper  part  of 
the  state,  and  Louisville,  just  below  the  falls  of  Ohio, 
in  the  lower  division.  Both  are  noted  stations,  espe- 
cially the  latter,  for  the  shipment  of  Kentucky  produce. 
Louisville  is  more  frequented  by  steam-boats,  than 
any  other  port  on  the  Ohio.  In  New  Orleans  more 
are  up  for  that  place  than  any  other.  It  is  seldom 
that  many  days  elapse  in  that  city,  without  offering  a 
steam-boat  conveyance  to  Louisville.  This  trip, 
which  in  the  ancient  modes  of  boating,  used  to  be 
three  times  the  length  of  a  voyage  across  the  Atlantic, 
is  now  often  performed  in  twelve  days.  Accustomed 
to  see  the  steam-boat  with  its  prodigious  and  untiring 
power,  breasting  the  heavy  current  of  the  Mississippi, 
the  Kentuckian  draws  his  ideas  of  power  from  this 
source ;  and  when  the  warmth  of  whiskey  in  his 
stomach  is  added  to  his  natural  energy,  he  becomes  in 
succession,  horse,  alligator,  and  steam-boat.  Much  of 
his  language  is  figurative  and  drawn  from  the  power 
of  a  steam-boat.  To  get  ardent  and  zealous,  is  to 
"  raise  the  steam."  To  get  angry,  and  give  vent  and 
scope  to  these  feelings,  is  to  "  let  off  the  steam."  To 
encounter  any  disaster,  or  meet  with  a  great  catastro- 
phe, is  to  "  burst  the  boiler."  The  slave  cheers  his 
oxen  and  horses  by  bidding  them  "  go  ahead."  Two 
black  women  were  about  to  fight,  and  their  beaux 
cheered  them  to  the  combat  with  "  Go  ahead  and  buss 
e  boiler." 


79 


As  the  climate  of  the  southern  front  of  Ohio,  the 
state  of  Kentucky  in  general,  of  Missouri  and  Illinois, 
are  nearly  similar,  I  have  reserved  the  remarks  which 
occurred  to  me  upon  this  subject,  that  I  might  give  a 
general  view  of  it,  for  another  place.  On  this  journey, 
in  the  middle  of  March,  turnip-greens  were  brought  to 
the  table.  Currant  and  gooseberry  shrubs  were  in 
half  leaf.  Early  peach-trees  in  southern  exposures 
were  in  full  flower.  On  clear  days,  after  the  sun  had 
ascended  the  sky,  the  temperature  was  delightful. 
Early  in  the  morning  and  evening,  there  was  a  chill 
in  the  atmosphere,  not  unlike  that  produced  on  the 
Atlantic  shore  by  the  northeast  wind  in  clear  days. 

After  a  succession  of  visits  and  residences  of  a  day 
or  two,  in  very  amiable,  hospitable,  and  kind  families, 
I  returned,  in  the  practice  of  the  usual  duties  of 
preaching  in  the  villages  in  the  evening,  by  the  way 
of  Georgetown,  North  Bend,  and  General  Harrison's 
plantation,  to  my  family  in  Cincinnati. 


LETTER  Xl.—CIJVCIJVJYATL 

After  reposing  a  few  days,  I  found  the  spring  suf- 
ficiently advanced  to  render  travelling  in  a  boat  pleas- 
ant and  comfortable.  The  roads  through  the  country, 
were  yet  scarcely  passable.  Steam-boats,  except  one 
unwieldy,  unsafe,  and  slow,  there  were  none.  I  pur- 
chased and  fitted  up  a  keel-boat,  in  which  we  pro- 
posed to  embark  for  St.  Louis.  One  of  the  most 
unpleasant  circumstances  attending  the  life,  which  I 
lead,  is  that  we  naturally  form  intimacies,  which  are 
extremely  painful  in  the  breaking.     We  find  friends 


80 


from  whom  we  are  loath  to  depart.  We  had  unex- 
pectedly found  many  friends.  My  family  had  been 
intimate  with  many  excellent  ladies,  "  mothers  in  Is- 
rael," the  advocates  of  "  eve  ru  good  work."  We 
found  so  much  pain  in  the  parting  from  these  excel- 
lent people,  who  had  lavished  kindnesses  upon  us,  and 
whom  we  expected  to  see  no  more,  that  it  in  some 
sense  renewed  the  anguish  of  our  original  separation 
from  home.  In  effect,  on  returning  to  Cincinnati  after 
an  absence  of  ten  years,  I  find  that  the  greater  num- 
ber have  passed  "  the  bourne."  I  have  so  long  and 
so  often  experienced  the  anguish  of  breaking  off  these 
ties,  which,  however  pleasant,  are  so  transient  and 
frail,  that  I  have  ended  by  finding  gloomy  thoughts 
connected  with  every  effort  to  form  a  new  acquaint- 
ance. 

When  we  embarked,  our  friends  attended  us  to  the 
shore,  where  we  found  they  had  made  many  kind 
provisions  for  our  comfort  on  the  voyage.  We  re- 
ceived the  last  demonstrations  of  kindness,  and  em- 
barked, the  twelfth  of  April  1816.  Our  keel-boat  was 
between  eighty  and  ninety  feet  in  length,  was  fiited 
up  with  a  small  but  comfortable  cabin,  and  carried 
seventeen  tons.  It  was  an  extremely  sultry  afternoon 
when  we  embarked,  such  as  often  occurs  in  that  re- 
gion when  the  temperature  is  high  summer  heat. 
Nothing  could  exceed  the  grandeur  of  the  vegetable 
kingdom  on  the  banks  of  the  broad  and  beautiful 
Ohio.  The  magnificent  beeches,  cotton- trees,  and 
sycamores,  had  developed  all  the  richness  of  their  foli- 
age. The  shrubs  and  trees  were  enlivened  with  the 
glittering  plumage  of  their  feathered  tenants,  and 
were  "  prodigal  of  harmony."  The  river,  full  almost 
to  the  summit  of  its  banks,  swept  along  an  immense 


81 


volume  of  water,  and  its  aspect  had  nothing  in  com- 
mon with  the  clean  and  broad  sand-bars  and  shallow 
waters  of  the  channel  down  which  we  descended  in 
autumn.  We  found  the  current,  too,  had  more  than 
twice  the  rapidity.  We  could  not  tire  in  extending  our 
sight  to  the  farthest  stretch  of  vision,  over  a  surface  of 
forest,  clothed  with  a  depth  of  verdure,  with  a  richness 
of  foliage,  and  a  grandeur  of  size  and  height,  that  char- 
acterize the  forest  bottoms  at  this  point  of  the  Ohio. 

We  commenced  this  trip,  like  that  of  our  first  em- 
barkation on  the  Ohio,  with  the  most  cheering  auspi- 
ces. We  experienced  in  a  couple  of  hours,  what  has 
so  often  been  said  and  sung  of  all  earthly  enjoyments, 
how  near  to  each  other  are  the  limits  of  happiness  and 
trouble.  Banks  of  thunder-clouds  lowered  in  the 
horizon,  when  we  left  Cincinnati.  They  gathered 
over  us,  and  a  violent  thunder-storm  ensued.  We 
had  not  time  to  reach  the  shore  before  it  burst  upon 
us,  attended  with  strong  gusts  of  wind.  The  gale  was 
too  violent  for  us  to  think  of  landing  on  a  bluff,  and 
rock-bound  shore.  We  secured,  as  well  as  we  could, 
the  open  passage  into  midship,  and  made  arrange- 
ments for  scooping  out  the  water,  which  the  boat  took 
in  from  the  waves.  We  had  some  ladies  passengers 
on  board,  whose  screams  added  to  the  uproar  without. 
I  was  exposed  to  the  storm  on  the  deck,  ready  occa- 
sionally to  assist  the  "  patron,"  as  he  is  called,  of  the 
boat,  whenever  he  found  himself  unable,  from  the 
violence  of  the  wind,  to  manage  the  helm.  Tiie  peals 
of  thunder  were  incessant,  and  the  air  was  in  a  blaze 
with  the  flashes  of  lightning.  We  frequently  saw 
them  apparently  dart  into  the  river.  The  storm  con- 
tinued to  rage  with  unremitting  fury,  for  more  than  an 
hour.  Such  storms,  to  a  frail  keel -boat,  loaded  like 
11 


82 


ours  to  the  water's  edge,  are  always  dangerous,  and 
sometimes  fatal.  The  patron,  who  had  been  tor  many 
years  in  this  employment,  and  who  had  been,  as  he 
said,  boat- wrecked  half  a  dozen  times,  kept,  indeed, 
perfectly  cool.  But  his  countenance  manifested  great 
anxiety.  We  weathered  the  storm,  however,  with  no 
other  inconvenience  than  getting  drenched  with  rain, 
and  hearing  the  frequent  and  earnest  assertions  of  our 
passengers,  that  they  would  never  expose  themselves 
to  the  danger  of  such  a  storm  again.  Indeed,  had 
my  family  been  at  all  superstitious,  as  we  had  often 
during  the  winter  considered  it  our  duty  to  return  to 
New  England  in  the  spring,  we  might  have  thought 
so  gloomy  a  commencement  of  a  voyage  still  farther 
west,  and  still  farther  from  our  country,  as  ominous  of 
the  misfortunes  which  afterwards  befel  us  in  that  re- 
gion. But,  as  the  atmosphere  brightened,  as  happens 
to  beings  so  dependent  upon  external  nature  for  the 
tone  of  our  minds,  our  thoughts  began  to  brighten, 
and  our  strength  and  courage  for  pursuing  our  journey 
were  renewed.  We  lauded  in  the  evening,  near  the 
mansion  of  General  Harrison,  and  were  most  hospita- 
bly received  by  him. 

Next  day  the  northwest  wind,  as  happens  with  you, 
after  a  violent  thunder-storm  in  the  spring,  blew  with 
such  violence,  that  w7e  were  obliged  to  lay  by  for 
the  day,  not  daring  to  encounter  the  waves  of  the 
river.  We  passed  the  day  pleasantly  in  receiving  the 
hospitalities  of  the  general,  and  in  hearing  his  children 
examined  by  their  private  tutor.  I  was  pleased  to 
find  that  their  tutor  was  an  accomplished  scholar,  and 
that  the  children  must  have  been  faithfully  disciplined. 
Their  proficiency  in  geometry,  especially,  had  been 
uncommon.     Next  day  we  left  our  passengers  at 


83 


Lawrenceburg,  where  we  passed  the  night.  At  this 
place,  my  daughter,  in  playing  with  some  misses  of 
her  years,  that  belonged  to  the  village,  in  stepping  on 
board  fell  into  the  river.  A  gentleman  who  was  prov- 
identially there,  plunged  in,  and  rescued  her,  as  she 
rose,  from  drowning.  A  parent  will  need  no  informa- 
tion, how  I  felt,  in  respect  to  that  stranger,  and  the 
providence  that  sent  him  to  her  release. 

From  this  place  to  Shawnoe-town  nothing  occur- 
red in  our  descent  worth  mentioning.  This  is  an  un- 
pleasant looking  village*  that  had  but  just  emerged 
from  an  inundation,  before  our  arriving  there.  It  has 
a  bank,  and  is  a  place  of  some  importance  from  two 
causes.  The  salt,  that  is  made  at  the  neighbouring 
saline,  is  exported  from  it,  and  the  outfits  for  keel- 
boats,  descending  the  Ohio,  and  purposing  to  ascend 
the  Mississippi,  used  to  be  made  here.  In  our  descent 
to  this  town,  we  had  been  delighted  with  the  singular 
forms  of  the  Ohio  biuffs,  which  sometimes  tower  aloft 
with  an  imposing  magnificence.  A  remarkable  cave 
in  the  rock,  in  one  of  these  bluffs,  is  rather  a  striking 
curiosity.  We  see  the  usual  desire  of  travellers  to 
perpetuate  their  names  and  exploits,  in  the  carving  of 
names  on  the  projections  of  this  cave.  There  are 
names  here,  engraven  in  the  solid  m  ( stone,  the  letters 
of  which  are  of  such  a  size  and  distinctness,  as  to  be 
capable  of  being  read  at  a  considerable  distance. 

At  this  town  we  made  our  final  arrangements  for 
ascending  the  Mississippi.  Nine  hands  would  have 
been  considered  the  usual  complement  for  carrying 
such  a  boat  as  mine  up  the  Mississippi.  We  descend- 
ed to  the  mouth  of  the  Ohio,  without  noting  any  oc- 
currence except  a  thunder  storm,  for  which  we  laid  by. 
The  Ohio  was  so  broad  and  safe,  that  we  floated 


84 


night  and  day,  and  were  carried  west  nearly  a  hun- 
dred miles  in  the  twenty-four  hours.  We  still  had 
often  on  one  side  bluff-banks;  and  the  verdure  of  the 
unknown  herbage,  the  novelty  and  diversity  of  beauti- 
ful flowers  that  we  had  never  seen,  that  grew  on  these  • 
steep  and  deeply  wooded  slopes,  were  a  source  of  un- 
failing delight.  My  children  contemplated  with  unsa- 
ted  curiosity  the  flocks  of  parroquets  fluttering  among 
the  trees,  when  we  came  near  the  shore. 

As  it  respects  our  position,  we  have  yet  Kentucky 
on  the  left  shore,  and  above  Shawnoe-town,  Indiana 
on  the  right,  to  the  mouth  of  the  Wabash,  and  from 
that,  Illinois  to  the  mouth  of  the  Ohio.  Below  Shaw- 
noe-town, the  beauty  of  the  Ohio  banks  begins  to  dis- 
appear. The  bluffs  subside.  Cultivation  becomes 
more  unfrequent.  The  country  begins  to  exhibit  the 
sombre  aspect  of  swamp  and  inundation,  beyond  the 
reach  of  the  eye.  You  look  abroad  on  the  right  and 
on  the  left,  upon  a  vast  forest  of  lofty  trees,  covered 
with  the  largest  and  most  verdant  foliage,  with  a  sur- 
face of  perfect  regularity,  raising  the  impression  of  a 
vast  green  and  level  roof,  formed  by  branches  of  huge 
and  living  columns,  in  at  rise  out  of  the  water.  The 
singularity  of  such  a  prospect  excites  a  momentary 
feeling  of  pleasure,  from  its  freshness  and  grandeur. 
But  it  soon  becomes  dreary  to  the  eye,  from  its  sad 
monotony,  and  from  mental  associations  with  it,  of 
fever  and  ague,  and  musquitoes,  and  consignment  to 
perpetual  destitution  of  human  habitations. 

Indeed  there  are  solitary  cabins  of  wood -cutters, 
who  fix  their  dwellings  on  piles  or  blocks,  raised  above 
the  inundation,  who  stay  here  to  supply  the  steam- 
boats with  wood.  In  effect,  to  visit  this  very  portion 
of  the  river  in  the  autumn  after  the  subsiding  of  the 


85 


spring-floods,  to  see  its  dry  banks,  its  clean  sand-bars? 
and  all  traces  of  the  inundation  gone,  except  its  marks 
upon  the  trunks  of  the  trees,  one  would  have  no  sus- 
picion of  the  existence  of  such  swamp  and  overflow 
as  it  now  exhibits. 


LETTER  XII. 

The  twenty-eighth  of  April,  1816,  we  came  in 
sight  of  what  had  long  been  the  subject  of  our  conver- 
sations, our  inquiries,  and  curiosity,  the  far-famed 
Mississippi.  It  is  a  view,  which  has  left  on  my  mind 
a  most  deep  and  durable  impression,  marking  a  pe- 
riod, from  which  commenced  a  new  era  in  my  ex- 
istence. We  had  been  looking  forward  to  this  place 
as  the  pillars  of  Hercules.  The  country  on  this  side 
had  still  some  unbroken  associations  with  our  native 
land.  This  magnificent  river,  almost  dividing  the 
continent,  completely  severed  this  chain.  We  were 
now,  also,  to  experience  the  novelty  of  propelling  a 
boat  against  the  current  of  one  of  the  mightiest  and 
most  rapid  rivers  in  the  world.  The  junction  of  the 
Ohio  and  Mississippi  does  not  impress  that  idea  of 
physical  grandeur,  which  fills  up  your  anticipations. 
But  allow  the  fancy  to  range  the  boundless  forests 
and  prairies,  through  which  it  brings  down  the  sweep- 
ing tribute,  which  it  has  collected  from  distant  and 
nameless  mountains,  and  from  a  hundred  shores,  and 
you  will  not  contemplate  this  mighty  stream  without 
an  intense  interest.  A  sharp  point,  almost  at  right 
angles  with  either  river,  mingles  their  waters  in  the 
midst  of  deep  and  ancient  forests,  where  the  eye  ex- 


86 


patiates  over  vast  and  swampy  woods,  perhaps  fifty 
miles  in  extent.  Turn  the  point,  and  your  eye  catches 
the  vast  Mississippi,  rolling  down  his  mass  of  turbid 
waters,  which  seem,  compared  with  the  limpid  and 
greenish-coloured  waters  of  the  Ohio,  to  be  of  almost 
a  milky  whiteness.  They  exactly  resemble  waters  in 
which  white  ashes  have  been  mixed  and  remain  sus- 
pended. A  speculation  was  get  up,  to  form  a  great 
city  at  the  delta,  and  in  fact  they  raised  a  few  houses 
upon  piles  of  wood.  The  houses  were  inundated,  and 
when  we  were  there,  "  they  kept  the  town,"  as  the 
boatmen  phrased  it,  in  a  vast  flat  boat,  a  hundred  feet 
in  length,  in  which  there  were  families,  liquor-shops, 
drunken  men  and  women,  and  all  the  miserable  appen- 
dages to  such  a  place.  To  render  the  solitude  of  the 
pathless  forest  on  the  opposite  shore  more  dismal, 
there  is  one  gloomy-looking  house  there. 

Having  turned  the  point,  and  made  our  boat  fast  to 
the  young  willows,  we  reposed  to  give  scope  to  our 
own  contemplations.  Our  hands  demanded  the  usual 
compliment,  and  having  received  it  in  moderation,  pro- 
nounced themselves  sufficiently  cheered  to  begin  their 
task.  The  margin  of  the  stream  is  marked  with  a 
beautiful  growth  of  low  willows  and  cotton-woods, 
and  the  river,  though  it  had  overflowed  the  banks, 
and  was  high  among  the  trees,  was,  from  twenty  to 
thirty  feet  from  the  shore,  not  very  swift.  We  began 
to  pull  the  boat  up  the  stream,  by  a  process,  which,  in 
the  technics  of  the  boatmen,  is  called  44  bush-whack- 
ing." It  consists,  by  commencing  at  the  bow,  to 
seize  a  handful  of  bushes,  or  a  single  branch,  and  to 
pull  upon  them  and  walk  towards  the  stern,  as  the  boat 
ascends.  The  crew  follow  each  oiher  in  this  way  in 
succession  to  the  stern,  and  walk  round  to  the  bow, 


87 


on  the  opposite  side.  The  banks  slope  so  rapidly, 
that  the  "setting  pole"  is  not  long  enough,  in  the 
general  way,  for  use  on  the  opposite  side,  and  they 
commonly  put  two  hands  to  the  oars.  Whenever  we 
come  to  a  point,  and  have  to  encounter  the  full  force 
of  the  current,  we  cross  the  river,  in  order  to  get  into 
the  easier  current  upon  the  opposite  shore.  We  shall 
remark,  elsewhere,  upon  the  singular  but  almost  uni- 
form configuration  of  the  western  rivers,  by  which 
they  are  scooped  out  into  points  and  bends.  When 
the  river  is  low,  there  is  a  sand-bar  opposite  the  bend, 
and  the  current  is  invariably  much  stronger  in  the 
bend,  than  over  the  sand-bar. 

We  mark  a  very  obvious  difference  between  the 
aspect  of  the  Ohio  and  the  Mississippi.  The  breadth 
of  the  two  rivers  is  nearly  the  same  ;  and  they  present 
at  their  junction  nearly  the  same  appearances  of  swamp 
and  inundation.  They  have  much  the  same  growth 
on  their  banks ;  and  yet  they  have  a  character  very 
unlike  each  other.  The  Ohio  is  calm  and  placid,  and 
except  when  full,  its  waters  are  limpid  to  a  degree. 
The  face  of  the  Mississippi  is  always  turbid  ;  the  cur- 
rent every  w7here  sweeping  and  rapid  ;  and  it  is  full  of 
singular  boils,  w  here  the  water,  for  a  quarter  of  an  acre, 
rises  with  a  strong  circular  motion,  and  a  kind  of  hiss- 
ing noise,  forming  a  convex  mass  of  waters  above  the 
common  level,  which  roll  down  and  are  incessantly 
renewed.  The  river  seems  always  in  wrath,  tearing 
away  the  banks  on  one  hand  with  gigantic  fury,  with 
all  their  woods,  to  deposite  the  spoils  in  another  place. 

To  form  any  adequate  ideas  of  our  impressions  of 
this  new  scene  which  I  am  attempting  to  record,  you 
will  naturally  bear  in  remembrance  what  kind  of  fam- 
ily it  was,  that  was  viewing  it.    We  were  not  accus- 


38 


tomed  to  travelling.  We  had  been  reared  in  stillness 
and  seclusion,  where  we  had  contemplated  the  world 
rather  in  books  than  in  reality.  The  Mississippi,  too, 
at  that  time  was  to  the  great  proportion  of  the  Ameri- 
can people,  as  it  was  to  us,  the  "  ultima  Thule" — a 
limit  almost  to  the  range  of  thought.  This  stream, 
instead  of  being  ploughed  by  a  hundred  steam  boats, 
had  seen  but  one.  The  astonishing  facilities  for  trav- 
elling, by  which  it  is  almost  changed  to  flying,  had 
not  been  invented.  The  thousand  travellers  for  mere 
amusement,  that  we  now  see  on  the  roads,  canals,  and 
rivers,  were  then  travelling  only  in  books.  The  still- 
ness of  the  forest  had  not  been  broken  by  the  shouting 
of  turnpike-makers.  The  Mississippi  forest  had  sel- 
dom resounded,  except  with  the  cry  of  wild  beasts, 
the  echo  of  thunder,  or  the  crash  of  undermined  trees, 
falling  into  the  flood.  Our  admiration,  our  unsated 
curiosity  at  that  time,  would  be  matter  of  surprise  at 
the  present,  to  the  thousands  of  hacknied  travellers  on 
this  stream,  to  whom  all  this  route,  and  all  its  circum- 
stances, are  as  familiar  as  the  path  from  the  bed  to  the 
fire. 

For  myself,  I  shall  never  forget  my  first  impressions 
upon  beginning  to  ascend  this  river,  on  the  banks  of 
which  I  have  passed  so  many  years,  and  suffered  so 
many  misfortunes, — and  at  the  period  of  life,  too, 
when  time  is  most  valuable,  and  impressions  the  deep- 
est. The  scene  was  entirely  novel,  and  we  beheld 
every  thing,  as  though  the  water,  the  plants,  the  trees 
of  the  Mississippi,  would  be  different  from  the  same 
things  elsewhere.  Our  first  advances  on  the  stream 
were  well  calculated  to  satisfy  such  expectations  of 
gratified  curiosity,  as  we  had  formed.  The  day  was 
beautiful,  the  temperature  soft  and  genial.    The  vege- 


39 


table  kingdom  on  the  banks,  had  the  peculiar  grandeur 
of  its  empire  in  thai  region,  which  must  be  seen,  and 
not  described,  in  order  to  be  felt.  Even  the  small 
willows,  which  we  grasped  in  our  hands,  as  we  were 
drawing  the  boat  up  the  stream,  were  full  of  flowers, 
which  when  crushed,  yielded  out  that  fragrance  which 
is  peculiar  to  them;  a  fragrance  like  the  odour  of 
burning  coffee,  and  a  few  other  aromatics,  raising  the 
ideas  of  nectar  and  ambrosia. 

On  the  other  side,  the  river  had  only  so  far  over- 
flowed its  banks,  as  to  leave  the  tall  and  verdant 
meadow  grass,  and  water  plants  of  the  most  tender 
green,  above  the  water.  Innumerable  multitudes  and 
varieties  of  water-fowl,  of  different  forms,  and  plu- 
mage, and  hues,  were  pattering  in  the  water  among 
this  grass ;  or  were  raising  their  several  cries,  as  we 
frightened  them  from  their  retreat.  We  easily  ob- 
tained as  many  as  we  wished  ;  and  when  roused  to  the 
wing  by  our  guns,  they  soon  settled  down  in  another 
place.  Flocks  of  that  species,  called  wood-ducks, 
were  continually  flying  between  the  river  and  the 
woods,  where,  in  the  hollows  of  the  trees,  they  were 
rearing  their  young.  The  huge  sized  cotton-woods, 
so  regular  and  beautiful  in  their  form,  so  bright  in  a 
verdure  surpassing  that  of  northern  trees,  were  in 
themselves  objects  of  curiosity.  To  us,  under  such 
circumstances,  this  novel  and  fresh  scene  revived  those 
delightful  images  of  youth,  the  spring-time  of  exist- 
ence, which  are  most  fondly  cherished  and  longest 
remembered. 

In  the  excitement  of  this  cheerful  and  new  mode  of 
travelling,  I  forgot  sickness  and  sorrow,  and  the  appal- 
ling prospect  of  carrying  a  young  and  helpless  family, 
without  friends,  and  but  slenderly  provided  with  re- 
12 


90 


sources,  to  a  new  and  an  untried  world.  Perhaps  the 
first  half  day  that  we  passed  in  ascending  the  river  under 
every  favourable  omen,  was  the  happiest  period  that 
we  ever  experienced,  as  it  respects  mere  physical  en- 
joyment. Let  those  deride  our  excitement  then,  and 
that  which  I  now  feel,  only  in  the  recollection  of  our 
delight,  who  are  not  capable  of  entering  into  similar 
feelings,  and  placing  themselves  in  the  position  of  a 
family  constituted  like  mine.  Alas  I  neither  we  nor 
any  other  will  furnish  but  short  and  few  occasions  for 
derision  of  this  sort.  This  unnatural  excitement  soon 
gave  way.  We  soon  found  ascending  the  Mississippi, 
in  this  way,  calculated  to  excite  any  feelings,  rather 
than  those  of  tranquil  enjoyment.  But  for  this  day, 
at  least,  we  were  happy.  The  illusion  had  not  given 
place  to  the  sad  reality.  The  first  bluffs  that  we  pass- 
ed, so  delightful  in  contrast  with  the  long  and  dreary 
region  of  swamp,  that  we  had  passed  through,  the 
shrubbery  on  the  declivities,  the  novelty  and  freshness 
of  every  thing  that  we  saw,  were  charming.  Our  first 
encampment,  where  we  lay  by  for  the  night ;  the 
cheerfulness  of  the  boatmen,  who  had  had  their  full  ra- 
tions, their  bright  fires  on  the  shore,  the  careless  and 
satisfied  manner  in  which  they  threw7  themselves  at 
the  foot  of  the  trees  for  their  repose  ;  a  way  of  going 
forward  so  entirely  untried,  and  so  pleasant, — were 
adventitious  circumstances  of  gaiety  and  enjoyment. 
Since  I  have  been  two  hundred  days  on  the  Mississippi 
and  its  waters,  associations  of  toil,  of  peril,  and  diffi- 
culty of  all  descriptions  in  ihe  ascent,  intimate  ac- 
quaintance with  all  the  objects  and  scenery,  then 
so  new,  have  removed  all  this  charm.  I  have  been 
astonished,  at  a  subsequent  passing  this  same  portion 
of  the  river,  and  then  too  under  pleasant  circum- 


91 


stances,  how  much  of  the  zest  and  enjoyment  of  such 
scenes  are  taken  away  with  their  novelty. 

No  employment  can  be  imagined  more  laborious, 
and  few  more  dangerous,  than  this  of  propelling  a 
boat  against  the  current  of  such  a  river.  It  may  not 
be  amiss  to  record  some  of  the  circumstances  of  labour 
and  peril  ;  for  the  growing  disuse  of  all  other  but 
steam-boats,  will  soon  render  these  descriptions  but 
little  more  than  matter  of  past  history.  At  one  time 
you  come  to  a  place  in  the  current,  so  swift  that  no 
force  of  oars  and  poles  can  urge  the  boat  through  it. 
You  then  have  to  apply,  what  is  commonly  called 
here  a  "  cordelle,"  which  is  a  long  rope  fastened  at 
one  end  to  the  boat,  thrown  ashore,  and  seized  by  a 
sufficient  number  of  hands  to  drag  or  track  the  boat 
up  the  stream.  But,  owing  to  the  character  of  the 
river,  and  the  numberless  impediments  in  it  and  on  its 
banks,  this  "cordelle"  is  continually  entangling  among 
the  snags  and  sawyers,  between  the  boat  and  the 
shore,  and  has  often  to  be  thrown  over  small  trees, 
and  carried  round  larger  ones.  Of  course  it  requires 
great  experience  and  dexterity  to  be  a  good  leader  of 
a  cordelle.  The  service  is  extremely  well  adapted  to 
the  French  boatmen.  Sometimes  you  are  impeded  by 
vast  masses  ol  trees,  that  have  lodged  against  sawyers. 
At  other  times,  you  find  a  considerable  portion  of  the 
margin  of  the  shore,  including  a  surface  of  acres,  that 
has  fallen  into  the  river,  with  all  its  trees  upon  it. 
Just  on  the  edge  of  these  trees,  the  current  is  so 
heavy  as  to  be  almost  impassable.  It  is  beside  the 
question,  to  think  of  forcing  the  boat  up  against  the 
main  current  any  where,  except  with  an  uncommon 
number  of  hands.  Therefore  any  impediments  near 
the  shore,  must  either  be  surmounted,  or  the  river 


92 


crossed  to  avoid  them.  It  not.  unfrequently  happens, 
that  the  boat  with  no  small  labour,  and  falling  down 
the  stream  from  the  strength  of  the  current,  crosses 
the  river  to  avoid  such  difficulties,  and  finds  equal  ones 
on  the  opposite  shore. 

Sometimes  you  are  obliged  to  make  your  way 
among  the  trunks  of  trees,  and  the  water  boiling 
round  your  boat  like  that  of  a  mill-race.  Then,  if  the 
boat  "  swings/5  as  the  phrase  is,  that  is,  loses  her 
direction,  and  exposes  her  side  to  the  current,  you  are 
instantly  carried  back,  and  perhaps  strike  the  snags 
below  you,  and  your  boat  is  snagged,  or  staved.  We 
were  more  than  once,  half  a  day,  struggling  with  all 
our  own  force,  and  all  that  we  could  raise  on  the 
banks,  to  force  the  boat  through  a  single  rapid,  or  by 
one  difficult  place.  We  were  once  in  imminent  peril, 
not  only  of  our  boat,  but,  such  was  the  situation  of 
the  place,  if  we  had  been  wrecked  there,  of  our  lives. 
Severer  fatigue,  or  harder  struggling  to  carry  a  point, 
I  never  saw  endured,  than  in  this  case. 

I  would  not  wish  to  tire  you,  by  attempting  to  enu- 
merate all  the  difficulties  and  dangers  of  this  sort,  that 
we  encountered.  Should  I  even  attempt  it,  my  mem- 
ory would  not  reach  them ;  and  a  boatman  only 
would  be  able  to  describe  them  in  the  proper  techui- 
cals,  which  you  of  course  would  not  understand.  He 
would  enumerate  difficulties,  which  depend  for  their 
character  upon  the  peculiar  stage  of  the  water,  and 
the  manner  in  which  the  sand-bars  and  wreck-heaps 
are  situated.  These  wreck- heaps  are  immense  piles 
of  trees,  amassed  by  the  waters,  at  points,  and  in  dif- 
ficult places.  Let  no  deluded  emigrant  imagine,  that 
he  can  work  a  boat  up  this  river,  without  great  pa- 
tience, expense,  and  labour,  and  after  all,  without  dan- 


93 


ger.  The  danger  and  fatigue,  in  this  kind  of  boating, 
are  undoubtedly  greater  than  those  of  sea  navigation. 
Let  the  emigrant,  then,  who  ascends  this  river,  make 
the  proper  estimates  of  trouble,  expense,  and  danger, 
in  advance  ;  and  arm  himself  with  the  requisite  pa- 
tience and  resources.  Above  all,  let  him  have  a  full 
complement  of  faithful  and  experienced  hands.  I  do 
not  remember  to  have  traversed  this  river  in  any  con- 
siderable trip,  without  having  heard  of  some  fatal 
disaster  to  a  boat,  or  having  seen  a  dead  body  of  some 
boatman,  recognised  by  the  red  flannel  shirt,  which 
they  generally  wear.  The  multitudes  of  carcasses  of 
boats,  lying  at  the  points,  or  thrown  up  high  and  dry 
on  the  wreck-heaps,  demonstrate  most  palpably,  how 
many  boats  are  lost  on  this  wild,  and,  as  the  boatmen 
always  denominate  it,  "  wicked  river." 

I  am  sure  that  it  would  seem  tiresome  repetition,  if 
I  were  to  attempt  the  detail  of  our  pleasures,  our 
"  moving  accidents,"  our  "  hair-breadth  escapes,"  for 
we  had  them  ;  and  more  than  all,  of  our  gratified  cu- 
riosity. The  most  retired  regions  of  Hindostan,  or 
central  Africa,  could  not  have  more  keenly  excited  the 
sense  of  novelty  and  freshness.  Every  stopping-place 
opened  upon  us  its  little  world  of  wonders.  I  had,  as 
you  know,  travelled  in  the  northern  parts  of  the  Unit- 
ed States,  and  had  seen  the  Indians  of  Canada  and 
New  York.  But  the  Indians  that  we  now  saw, 
though  perfectly  resembling  the  former,  in  form  and 
countenance,  had,  on  closer  examination,  an  untamed 
savageness  of  countenance,  a  panther- like  expression, 
utterly  unlike  the  tame  and  subdued  countenance  of 
the  northern  Indians.  At  first  view,  my  family  con- 
templated the  Shawnoe  Indians  too  much  as  objects 
of  terror,  to  receive  much  pleasure  from  the  spectacle. 


94 


But  wild  deer,  frequently  seen  swimming  the  river,  or 
scouring  the  bluffs  above  us,  not  only  gratified  curiosi- 
ty, but  gave  us  strong  impressions  of  the  character  of 
the  country  we  were  visiting.  When  at  night,  after 
having  surmounted  the  difficulties  and  dangers  of  the 
day,  and  after  the  point  had  been  carefully  considered, 
which  of  the  hands  had  laboured  most,  been  most  effi- 
cient, or  shown  most  courage  and  coolness,  which  had 
been  most  willing  to  swim  on  shore  with  the  cordelle  in 
his  teeth,  in  short,  which  one  had  excelled  in  the  points 
of  a  boatman's  excellence, — and  these  points  of  prece- 
dence were  often  no  easy  matters  to  settle, — when 
mutual  congratulations  had  passed  round,  that  we  had 
performed  a  good  and  a  safe  day's  journey,  after  they 
had  had  their  rations,  they  would  then  throw  them- 
selves at  the  foot  of  a  tree.  They  then  begin  in  turn 
to  relate  their  adventures.  Some  of  them  had  been  to 
the  upper  world  on  the  Missouri,  a  thousand  leagues 
from  the  point  we  now  occupied.  Others  had  been 
above  the  falls  of  St  Anthony.  Another  had  been  in 
the  Spanish  country,  through  which  he  had  penetrat- 
ed by  the  almost  interminable  courses  of  the  Arkan- 
sas and  Red  River.  It  will  need  no  stretch  of  im- 
agination to  believe,  that  such  trips,  in  such  regions, 
among  Indians  and  bears,  and  that  non-descript  race 
of  men,  Canadian  and  Spanish  hunters,  men  in  whose 
veins,  perhaps,  the  blood  of  three  races  is  mixed, 
must  be  fruitful  in  adventure.  It  would  be  incredible 
to  any  one  who  had  not  seen  such  men,  and  had  full 
opportunities  to  become  acquainted  with  their  charac- 
ter, the  hardihood  and  endurance  of  which  they  are 
capable.  A  hunt  of  months  at  the  foot  of  the  Rocky 
Mountains,  at  an  immense  distance  from  civilized  man, 
without  bread  or  salt,  in  constant  dread  of  the  Indians 


95 


and  white  bears, — such  is  the  lonely  sojourn  in  the 
pathless  deserts,  in  which  these  men  patiently  pursue 
their  trapping,  and  contract  a  dexterity,  a  capacity  to 
avail  themselves  of  circumstances  to  circumvent  the 
Indians  and  the  game,  an  unshrinking  spirit  to  suffer, 
almost  beyond  humanity.  When  one  was  wearied 
with  his  tale,  another  was  instantly  ready  to  renew 
the  theme.  Sometimes  we  had  details  of  their  dusky 
loves ;  that  no  feature  of  romance  might  be  wanting. 
These  stories,  told  by  boatmen  stretched  at  the  foot  of 
a  tree,  just  below  which  was  the  boat,  and  the  wave 
of  the  Mississippi,  and  interlarded  with  the  jargon  of 
their  peculiar  phrase,  or  perhaps  interrupted  by  the 
droll  comment,  or  the  incredulous  questioning  of  the 
rest,  had  often  to  me  no  small  degree  of  interest ;  and 
tricked  out  in  the  dress  of  modern  description,  would 
have  made  very  tolerable  romances. 

In  advancing  up  the  stream,  at  a  great  distance  be- 
fore us  we  see  the  "  Grand  Tower."  This  is  an 
object  in  the  river,  the  more  striking,  from  its  being 
the  last  in  the  line  of  precipices,  between  that  point 
and  the  gulf  of  Mexico.  It  is  a  noble  and  massive 
pyramid  of  rock,  rising  perpendicularly  out  of  the  bed 
of  the  river,  in  which  it  forms  an  island.  Around  it 
the  river  foams  and  boils,  throwing  from  its  base  a 
kind  of  spiral  current  across  the  river.  Opposite  "  the 
Tower"  is  another  bold  bluff,  on  the  Illinois  shore, 
called  the  "  Devil's  oven."  This,  too,  throws  off  an- 
other sweeping  current,  and  between  these  currents 
the  passage  is  difficult,  and  at  some  stages  of  the  wa- 
ter, dangerous.  The  tower  is  stated  to  be  one  hun- 
dred and  fifty  feet  in  height.  On  its  summit  are  a 
few  solitary  cedars.  On  the  whole  it  is  an  imposing 
spectacle. 


96 


The  first  inhabited  bottom,  as  you  ascend  from  the 
mouth  of  the  Ohio,  has  the  name  of  Tywapety,  and 
the  next,  "Bois  Brule,"  or,  as  it  is  humorously  called, 
46  Bob  Ruly."  The  Americans  use,  in  this  way,  very 
little  ceremony  with  French  names.  For  nearly  forty 
miles  above  the  mouth  of  the  Ohio,  the  shores  of  the 
river  are  too  often  inundated,  to  be  inhabited.  The 
first  continued  bluffs  appear  on  the  west  side.  They 
are  often  of  an  astonishing  regularity,  and  tower 
more  than  two  hundred  f<  et  in  perpendicular  height. 
They  shoot  out  at  their  summits  into  pinnacles  and 
spires,  as  Mr.  Jefferson  remarked  of  them,  not  unlike 
those  of  cities.  The  "  Cornice  rock  99  is  so  regular 
in  its  curves,  and  marked  at  the  top  of  the  entabla- 
ture with  appearances  at  a  little  distance  so  like  den* 
tules,  that  it  reminds  us  of  the  regularity  with  which 
nature  operates,  in  the  smaller  scale  of  crystalliza- 
tion. On  the  summits  of  these  cliffs,  in  the  warm 
weather,  there  are  generally  encountered  more  or 
less  snakes.  In  two  instances  the  boatmen  on  the 
tops  of  the  cliffs,  when  cordelling  the  boat  directly  at 
the  base  of  these  rocks,  disengaged  snakes  from  their 
retreats,  and  they  fell  from  an  immense  elevation  on 
to  the  deck  of  our  boat. 

We  had  a  most  severe  trial  in  passing  round  the 
most  difficult  place,  that  we  had  yet  encountered, 
called  "  the  Sycamore  root."  At  this  stage  of  the 
water,  it  was  a  formidable  place.  A  heavy  mass  of 
the  river  sweeps  along  through  a  kind  of  basin  scoop- 
ed out  of  the  rock.  Our  boat  was  in  this  current, 
and  we  struggled  with  all  our  force  to  get  through  it, 
for  some  hours,  without  advancing  a  foot  against  the 
impetuous  current.  The  situation  of  my  family, 
that  1  had  sent  round  the  point  by  land,  that  they 


97 


might  avoid  the  danger,  was  scarcely  less  distressing 
than  ours.  They  were  near  enough  to  speak  to  us, 
to  see  the  bow  of  the  boat,  white  with  the  foam  of  the 
wave,  and  to  be  assured  by  the  man  who  conducted 
them,  that  if  we  "swung"  back  upon  the  rock,  our 
boat  would  be  crushed  like  a  potter's  vessel.  At 
length,  by  applying  a  cable  to  a  windlass  on  the 
shore,  with  great  labour,  we  escaped  safely  into  the 
calmer  water. 

We  went  safely  through  a  very  dangerous  place, 
only  to  encounter  danger  in  a  place  and  under  cir- 
cumstances where  there  was  not  the  slightest  indica- 
tion of  danger.  We  were  ascending  in  a  gentle  cur- 
rent a  channel  between  an  island  and  the  main  shore. 
The  bowsman  was  conversing  with  a  barefooted 
nymph  on  the  shore.  Too  attentive  to  her  ques- 
tions, he  neglected  his  boat.  She  struck  a  sawyer, 
pointing  down  stream.  It  penetrated  her  bow,  be- 
tween wind  and  water,  beating  in  a  hole,  large  enough 
to  admit  the  body  of  a  man.  We  stopped  it  as  well 
as  we  could,  with  blankets,  and  ran  the  boat  immedi- 
ately on  shore,  The  boat  was  partially  unloaded, 
and  at  a  distance  of  some  miles,  we  found  tools,  mate- 
rials, and  a  workman  for  repairing  it. 

The  inhabitants  on  this  portion  of  the  river  are 
what  the  French  call  "  petits  paysans,"  or  small 
planters.  They  fix  themselves  on  beautiful  bottoms, 
of  a  soil  of  extreme  fertility.  The  weeds,  the  trees, 
the  vegetation  generally,  indicate  a  fertility  still 
greater  than  that  of  the  Ohio  bottoms.  There  is  by 
no  means  the  same  degree  of  industry  and  enter- 
prise, as  there.  The  inhabitants  seem  indolent, 
yawning  as  if  under  the  constant  influence  of  fever 
and  ague ;  which,  in  fact,  they  often  have.  Their 
13 


98 


young  men,  and  too  often  their  young  women,  are  but 
too  ready  to  take  passage  in  the  ascending  or  de- 
scending boat.  They  arrogate  to  themselves  the 
finish  and  the  entireness  of  the  Mississippi  character, 
of  which  they  aver  the  Kentuckians  have  but  a  part. 
They  claim  to  be  the  genuine  and  original  breed, 
compounded  of  the  horse,  alligator,  and  snapping 
turtle.  In  their  new  and  "  strange  curses,"  you  dis- 
cover new  features  of  atrocity  ;  a  race  of  men  placed 
on  the  extreme  limits  of  order  and  civilization.  I 
heard  them  on  the  bank,  entering  into  the  details  of 
their  horrible  battles,  in  which  they  talked  with  a 
disgusting  familiarity  about  mutilation,  as  a  common 
result  of  these  combats.  Indeed  I  saw  more  than  one 
man,  who  wanted  an  eye,  and  ascertained  that  I  was 
now  in  the  region  of  "  gouging."  It  is  to  be  under- 
stood, that  it  is  a  surgical  operation,  which  they  think 
only  proper  to  be  practised  upon  black-guards,  and 
their  equals.  They  assured  us  that  no  "  gentleman" 
ever  got  gouged.  I  heard  them  speaking  of  a  tall, 
profane,  barbarous,  and  ruffian-like  looking  man,  and 
they  emphatically  pronounced  him  the"  best "  man 
in  the  settlement.  I  perceived  that  according  to 
their  definition,  the  question  about  the  "  best"  man 
had  been  reduced  to  actual  demonstration.  I  found, 
on  farther  inquiry,  that  the  "best"  man  was  under- 
stood to  be  the  best  fighter,  he  who  had  beaten,  or, 
in  the  Kentucky  phrase,  had  "  whipped "  all  the 
rest. 

We  pass,  at  this  point  of  the  river,  a  succession  of 
beautiful  bottoms,  alternated  with  bluffs,  and  in  some 
instances,  we  have  seen  the  bluffs  on  both  sides  of  the 
river.  We  go  on  at  the  rate  of  about  twelve  miles  a 
day.    We  have  thefsame  regular  succession  of  strug- 


99 


gling  with  logs  and  sawyers,  pressing  through  swift 
places,  of  crossing  the  river  from  one  point  to  anoth- 
er, and  occasionally  lying  by  on  account  of  the  wind  ; 
for  when  it  blows  strong  against  the  current  of  the 
Mississippi,  it  raises  waves  too  high  to  be  encoun- 
tered by  a  boat  like  ours.  A  circumstance  much  to 
be  dreaded,  is  the  fastening  a  boat  under  a  falling-in 
bank  or  a  tree,  which,  if  the  wind  should  rise  by 
night,  might,  in  this  tender  and  crumbly  soil,  uproot 
the  tree,  and  throw  it  upon  the  boat,  bringing  not  only 
instant  and  complete  ruin  to  the  boat,  but  destruc- 
tion to  them  that  are  aboard.  Many  such  tragic  oc- 
currences have  happened.  A  number  of  people  have 
been  instantly  crushed  to  death.  The  catastrophe 
occurs,  it  may  be,  far  from  the  haunts  of  men,  unno- 
ticed and  unrecorded.  We  often  hear  by  night  the 
terrific  crash  of  trees,  undermined  by  the  river,  or 
uprooted  by  the  wind,  as  they  fall  into  the  flood. 

Before  we  arrived  at  St.  Genevieve,  the  first  vil- 
lage on  the  Mississippi,  as  you  ascend  it,  we  pass- 
ed the  mouths  of  a  number  of  small  creeks.  We  no- 
ticed the  Kaskaskias,  a  river  which  runs  through  the 
central,  and  best  inhabited  parts  of  the  state  of  Illi- 
nois. It  passes  by  a  town  of  its  own  name,  one  of  the 
oldest  French  establishments,  out  of  Canada,  in 
North  America.  It  is  said  to  be  older  than  Phila- 
delphia. It  is  a  pleasant  village,  and  was  then  the 
seat  of  government,  and  issued  a  weekly  paper.  St. 
Genevieve  is  also  a  considerable  village,  almost 
wholly  French,  on  the  Missouri  or  west  side  of  the 
river,  a  mile  up  a  small  creek,  called  the  Gabourie. 
In  this  place  we  were  introduced  to  amiable  and  pol- 
ished people  ;  and  saw  a  town  evidencing  the  posses- 
sion of  a  considerable  degree  of  refinement.  Here 


ioo 


we  first  see  the  French  mode  of  constructing  houses*, 
and  forming  a  village.  The  greater  proportion  of 
the  houses  have  mud  walls,  whitened  with  lime, 
which  have  much  the  most  pleasant  appearance  at  a 
distance.  Their  modes  of  building,  enclosing,  and 
managing,  are  very  unlike  those  of  the  Americans. 
Here  the  French  is  the  predominant  language.  Tra- 
ces, too,  of  their  regard  for  their  worship  begin  to  be 
seen.  You  see  the  Catholic  church.  On  the  ridges 
of  the  houses,  or  over  the  gates,  you  frequently  see 
the  wooden  cross. 

As  I  remained  principally  in  the  country  of  the  Mis- 
souri for  six  years,  I  propose  to  speak  of  that  coun- 
try with  some  particularity ;  being  that  part  of  the 
western  country  with  w  Inch  I  am  best  acquainted.  I 
shall  not  therefore  enter  into  much  detail  of  what  we 
saw  between  this  and  St.  Louis.  I  shall  only  remark, 
as  a  very  prominent  feature  in  the  shore,  opposite  St. 
Genevieve,  that  there  commences  below  Kaskaskias  a 
very  rich  and  wide  bottom,  called  the  "  American  bot- 
tom." It  has  a  skirt  of  wood  two  or  three  miles  in 
width.  Still  farther  from  the  river,  and  beyond  the 
timbered  land,  is  a  most  beautiful  prairie  of  the  richest 
land,  from  two  to  four  miles  in  width.  Beyond  this 
are  lofty  and  perpendicular  stone  bluffs,  the  bases  of 
which  appear  evidently  to  have  been  once  worn  with 
running  water.  This  charming  skirt,  partly  timber- 
ed, partly  prairie,  and  every  where  limited  by  this 
kind  of  bluff,  extends  from  this  point  to  a  considerable 
distance  above  St.  Louis.  On  the  western  shore,  it 
is  generally  bluff ;  and  where  there  is  a  bottom,  it  is 
very  narrow.  These  bluffs,  which  are  very  lofty  and 
diversified,  between  St.  Genevieve  and  Herculaneum, 
slope  from  a  very  bold  and  commanding  front  on  the 


101 


viver  to  singular  shaped  hills,  sometimes  bounded  at 
the  foot  by  a  wall  of  a  mile  or  two  in  extent,  and  from 
four  to  six  feet  high,  as  smooth  and  regular  as  though 
it  had  beeL  faced  by  a  mason.  Near  Herculaneum,  on 
the  pinnacles  of  these  bluffs,  are  erected  shot-towers. 
The  lead  in  a  state  of  fusion,  falls  three  hundred  feet 
into  water  at  the  foot  of  the  tower.  The  particles  of 
lead  receive  their  division  in  passing  through  a  sieve, 
and  acquire  their  circularity  in  falling. 

Between  Herculaneum  and  Carondelet,  to  which 
the  French  have  given  the  more  familiar  name  of 
"  Vuide  Poche,"  or  Empty  Pocket,  we  pass  the  mouth 
of  the  Maramec.  This  is  a  considerable  stream, 
which  traverses  the  mine  district,  and  winds  among 
the  hills  two  hundred  miles,  before  it  mingles  its  wa- 
ters with  the  Mississippi.  In  arriving  at  Carondelet, 
we  had  remarked  two  small  villages  on  the  opposite 
shore,  and  we  have  here  in  view  on  th#t  side,  Caho- 
kia,  an  ancient  and  considerable  French  village,  w7itfi 
a  Catholic  church.  On  the  twenty-fourth  of  May, 
we  arrived  at  St.  Louis  on  a  very  beautiful  morning, 
without  any  considerable  accident,  and  all  in  good 
health. 


LETTER  XIII. — ST  LOUIS. 

I  am  now  near  the  central  point  of  the  great  valley 
of  the  Mississippi;  the  largest  valley  or  basin  drained 
by  one  river,  on  the  earth.  From  the  Allegany  ridges 
eastward,  to  the  dividing  ridge  of  the  Chepywan  or 
Rocky  Mountains,  from  whose  eastern  declivities  How 
the  waters  of  the  Missouri,  on  the  west,  is  supposed  to 
be  twenty-five  hundred  miles  in  a  right  line,  and 


102 


double  that  distance,  by  the  courses  of  the  Ohio  and 
Missouri.    From  the  eminences  that  divide  the  waters 
of  hed  River  of  the  north,  Saskashawin  and  Slave 
Lake  from  those  of  the  upper  Mississippi,  to  the 
gulph  of  Mexico  on  the  south,  is  more  than  three 
thousand  miles.    In  its  width,  in  its  narrowest  dimen- 
sions, where  it  converges  toward  the  gulph,  from  the 
sources  of  the  Tennessee,  to  those  of  Red  River  of 
the  south,  can  scarcely  be  less  than  two  thousand  two 
hundred  miles.    A  keel-boat  of  forty  tons  burden  can 
take  in  its  family  and  its  load  in  the  state  of  New 
York,  and  by  the  Allegany,  the  Ohio,  the  Mississippi, 
and  Missouri,  land  them  at  the  foot  of  the  Stony 
Mountains ;  having  made,  in  a  continued  course,  a 
voyage  of  greater  length  than  the  crossing  the  Atlan- 
tic.   It  is  stated  that  boats  can  ascend  the  "  Roche 
Jaune/'  or  Yellowstone  of  the  Missouri,  more  than  a 
thousand  miles.    Boats  ascend  the  Arkansas  and  Red 
River,  nearly  two  thousand  miles.    Boats  come  with 
very  short  portages  from  Montreal  to  the  upper  Mis- 
sissippi, and  I  have  seen  a  Mackinaw7  skiff,  carrying 
five  tons,  which  came  from  the  lakes  into  the  Chicago 
of  Michigan,  and  from  that  over  a  morass,  from  one 
end  of  which  run  the  waters  of  the  Chicago,  and 
from  the  other  those  of  the  Illinois,  into  the  Missouri, 
without  any  portage  at  all.    The  waters  of  the  morass 
were  found  sufficiently  deep  for  her  to  make  her  way 
from  the  river  of  the  lake,  to  that  of  the  Mississippi. 
Boats  pass  New  Madrid,  some  of  which  come  down 
the  Wabash  many  hundred  miles,  before  it  reaches  the 
Ohio  ;  and  others  in  an  opposite  direction,  down  the 
Tennessee,  much  farther  than  the  course  of  the  Wa- 
bash. 


103 


In  the  spring,  one  hundred  boats  have  been  num- 
bered, that  landed  in  one  day  at  the  mouth  of  the 
Bayan,  at  New  Madrid.  I  have  strolled  to  the  point 
on  a  spring  evening,  and  seen  them  arriving  in  fleets. 
The  boisterous  gaiety  of  the  hands,  the  congratula- 
tions, the  moving  picture  of  life  on  board  the  boats,  in 
the  numerous  animals,  large  and  small,  which  they 
carry,  their  different  loads,  the  evidence  of  the  increas- 
ing agriculture  of  the  country  above,  and  more  than 
all,  the  immense  distances  which  they  have  already 
come,  and  those  which  they  have  still  to  go,  afforded 
to  me  copious  sources  of  meditation.  You  can  name 
no  point  from  the  numerous  rivers  of  the  Ohio  and 
the  Mississippi,  from  which  some  of  these  boats  have 
not  come.  In  one  place  there  are  boats  loaded  with 
planks,  from  the  pine  forests  of  the  southwest  of  New 
York.  In  another  quarter  there  are  the  Yankee  no- 
tions of  Ohio.  From  Kentucky,  pork,  flour,  whiskey, 
hemp,  tobacco,  bagging,  and  bale-rope.  From  Ten- 
nessee there  are  the  same  articles,  together  with  great 
quantities  of  cotton.  From  Missouri  and  Illinois,  cat- 
tle and  horses,  the  same  articles  generally  as  from 
Ohio,  together  with  peltry  and  lead  from  Missouri. 
Some  boats  are  loaded  with  corn  in  the  ear  and  in 
bulk ;  others  with  barrels  of  apples  and  potatoes. 
Some  have  loads  of  cider,  and  what  they  call  "  cider 
royal,"  or  cider  that  has  been  strengthened  by  boiling 
or  freezing.  There  are  dried  fruits,  every  kind  of 
spirits  manufactured  in  these  regions,  and  in  short,  the 
products  of  the  ingenuity  and  agriculture  of  the  whole 
upper  country  of  the  west.  They  have  come  from 
regions,  thousands  of  miles  apart.  They  have  floated 
to  a  common  point  of  union.  The  surfaces  of  the 
boats  cover  some  acres.    Dunghill  fowls  are  fluttering 


104 

over  the  roofs,  as  an  invariable  appendage.  The 
chanticleer  raises  his  piercing  note.  The  swine  utter 
their  cries.  The  cattle  low.  The  horses  trample,  as 
in  their  stables.  There  are  boats  fitted  on  purpose, 
and  loaded  entirely  with  turkeys,  that,  having  little 
else  to  do,  gobble  most  furiously.  The  hands  travel 
about  from  boat  to  boat,  make  inquiries,  and  acquaint- 
ances, and  form  alliances  to  yield  mutual  assistance 
to  each  other,  on  their  descent  from  this  to  New 
Orleans.  After  an  hour  or  two  passed  in  this  way, 
they  spring  on  shore  to  raise  the  wind  in  town.  It  is 
well  for  the  people  of  the  village,  if  they  do  not  be- 
come riotous  in  the  course  of  the  evening  ;  in  which 
case  I  have  often  seen  the  mcst  summary  and  strong 
measures  taken.  About  midnight  the  uproar  is  all 
hushed.  The  fleet  unites  once  more  at  Natchez,  or 
New  Orleans,  and,  although  they  live  on  the  same 
river,  they  may,  perhaps,  never  meet  each  other  again 
on  the  earth. 

Next  morning  at  the  first  dawn,  the  bugles  sound. 
Every  thing  in  and  about  the  boats,  that  has  life,  is 
in  motion.  The  boats,  in  half  an  hour,  are  all  under 
way.  In  a  little  while  they  have  all  disappeared,  and 
nothing  is  seen,  as  before  they  came,  but  the  regular 
current  of  the  river.  In  passing  down  the  Mississippi, 
we  often  see  a  number  of  boats  lashed  and  floating 
together.  I  was  once  on  board  a  fleet  of  eight,  that 
were  in  this  way  moving  on  together.  It  was  a  con- 
siderable walk,  to  travel  over  the  roofs  of  this  floating 
town.  On  board  of  one  boat  they  were  killing  swine. 
In  another  they  had  apples,  cider,  nuts,  and  dried  fruit. 
One  of  the  boats  was  a  retail  or  dram  shop.  It  seems 
that  the  object  in  lashing  so  many  boats,  had  been  to 
barter,  and  obtain   supplies.     These  confederacies 


105 


often  commence  in  a  frolic,  and  end  in  a  quarrel,  in 
which  case  the  aggrieved  party  dissolves  the  partner- 
ship by  unlashing,  and  managing  his  own  boat  in  his 
own  way.  While  this  fleet  of  boats  is  floating  sepa- 
rately, but  each  carried  by  the  same  current,  nearly 
at  the  same  rate,  visits  take  place  from  boat  to  boat  in 
skiffs. 

While  I  was  at  New  Madrid,  a  large  tinner's  estab- 
lishment floated  there  in  a  boat.  In  it  all  the  different 
articles  of  tin-ware  were  manufactured  and  sold  by 
wholesale  and  retail.  There  were  three  large  apart- 
ments, where  the  different  branches  of  the  art  were 
carried  on  in  this  floating  manufactory.  When  they 
had  mended  all  the  tin,  and  vended  all  that  they  could 
sell  in  one  place,  they  floated  on  to  another.  A  still 
more  extraordinary  manufactory,  we  were  told,  was 
floating  down  the  Ohio,  and  shortly  expected  at  New 
Madrid.  Aboard  this  were  manufactured  axes,  scythes, 
and  all  other  iron  tools  of  this  description,  and  in  it  hors- 
es were  shod.  In  short  it  was  a  complete  blacksmith's 
shop  of  a  higher  order,  and  it  is  said  that  they  jesting- 
ly talked  of  having  a  trip-hammer  worked  by  a  horse 
power  on  board.  I  have  frequently  seen  in  this  re- 
gion a  dry  goods  shop  in  a  boat,  with  its  articles  very 
handsomely  arranged  on  shelves.  Nor  would  the  del- 
icate hands  of  the  vender  have  disgraced  the  spruce 
clerk  behind  our  city  counters.  It  is  now  common  to 
see  flat-boats  worked  by  a  bucket  wheel,  and  a  horse 
power,  after  the  fashion  of  steam-boat  movement.  In- 
deed, every  spring  brings  forth  new  contrivances  of 
this  sort,  the  result  of  the  farmer's  meditations  over  his 
winter's  fire. 

St.  Louis  is  a  kind  of  central  point,  in  this  immense 
valley.    From  this  point,  outfits  are  constantly  mak- 
14 


106 


ing  to  the  military  posts,  and  to  the  remotest  regions  by 
the  hunters  for  furs.  Boats  are  also  constantly  ascend- 
ing to  the  lead-mine  districts,  on  the  upper  Mississippi. 
From  our  boat,  as  we  lay  in  the  harbour  of  St.  Louis, 
we  could  see  "  The  Mandan/'  as  the  name  of  a  boat 
bound  far  up  the  Missouri.  Another  was  up  for 
"  Prairie  du  Chien,"  and  the  Falls  of  St.  Anthony ; 
another  for  the  highest  points  of  the  Illinois ;  another 
for  the  Arkansas ;  and  "  The  Gumbo,"  for  Natchez 
and  New  Orleans. 

Consider  that  the  lakes  are  wedded  to  the  ocean  by 
the  New  York  canal.  The  Illinois  will  shortly  be 
with  Chicago  and  Michigan ;  for  it  is,  for  a  little 
while  in  the  spring,  partially  so  by  nature.  The 
union  of  the  Ohio  with  the  lakes,  on  the  one  hand, 
and  with  the  tide  waters  of  Virginia,  on  the  other,  is 
not  only  contemplated,  but  the  labour  to  effect  it  is 
commenced.  When  these  contemplated  canals  are 
completed,  certainly  no  country  in  the  world  can 
equal  ours  in  the  number,  convenience,  and  extent  of 
its  internal  water  communications. 

The  advantage  of  steam- boats,  great  as  it  is  every 
where,  can  no  where  be  appreciated  as  in  this  country. 
The  distant  points  of  the  Ohio  and  Mississippi  used  to 
be  separated  from  New  Orleans  by  an  internal  ob- 
struction, far  more  formidable  in  the  passing,  than  the 
Atlantic.  If  I  may  use  a  hard  word,  they  are  now 
brought  into  juxtaposition.  To  feel  what  an  inven- 
tion this  is  for  these  regions,  one  must  have  seen  and 
felt,  as  I  have  seen  and  felt,  the  difficulty  and  danger 
of  forcing  a  boat  against  tbe  current  of  these  mighty 
rivers,  on  which  a  progress  of  ten  miles  in  a  day,  is  a 
good  one.  Indeed  those  huge  and  unwieldy  boats, 
the  barges  in  which  a  great  proportion  of  the  articles 


107 


from  New  Orleans  used  to  be  transported  to  the  up- 
per country,  required  twenty  or  thirty  hands  to  work 
them.  I  have  seen  them  day  after  day,  on  the  lower 
portions  of  the  Mississippi,  where  there  was  no  other 
way  of  working  them  up,  than  carrying  out  a  cable 
half  a  mile  in  length,  in  advance  of  the  barge,  and  fas- 
tening it  to  a  tree.  The  hands  on  board  then  draw  it 
up  to  the  tree.  While  this  is  transacting,  another 
yawl,  still  in  advance  of  that,  has  ascended  to  a  high- 
er tree,  and  made  another  cable  fast  to  it,  to  be  ready 
to  be  drawn  upon,  as  soon  as  the  first  is  coiled.  This 
is  the  most  dangerous  and  fatiguing  way  of  all,  and 
six  miles  advance  in  a  day,  is  good  progress. 

It  is  now  refreshing,  and  imparts  a  feeling  of  energy 
and  power  to  the  beholder,  to  see  the  large  and  beauti- 
ful steam-boats  scudding  up  the  eddies,  as  though  on 
the  wing  ;  and  when  they  have  run  out  the  eddy, 
strike  the  current.  The  foam  bursts  in  a  sheet  quite 
over  the  deck.  She  quivers  for  a  moment  with  the 
concussion ;  and  then,  as  though  she  had  collected 
her  energy,  and  vanquished  her  enemy,  she  resumes 
her  stately  march,  and  mounts  against  the  current,  five 
or  six  miles  an  hour.  I  have  travelled  in  this  way  for 
days  together,  more  than  a  hundred  miles  in  a  day, 
against  the  current  of  the  Mississippi.  The  difficulty 
of  ascending,  used  to  be  the  only  circumstance  of  a 
voyage  that  was  dreaded  in  the  anticipation.  This 
difficulty  now  disappears.  A  family  in  Pittsburg 
wishes  to  make  a  social  visit  to  a  kindred  family  on 
Red  River.  The  trip  is  but  two  thousand  miles. 
They  all  go  together;  servants,  baggage  or  "  plunder," 
as  the  phrase  is,  to  any  amount.  In  twelve  days  they 
reach  the  point  proposed.  Even  the  return  is  but  a 
short  voyage.    Surely  the  people  of  this  country  will 


108 


have  to  resist  strong  temptations,  if  they  do  not  be- 
come a  social  people.  You  are  invited  to  a  breakfast, 
at  seventy  miles'  distance.  You  go  on  board  the  pass- 
ing steam-boat  and  awake  in  the  morning  in  season 
for  your  appointment.  The  day  will  probably  come, 
when  the  inhabitants  of  the  warm  and  sickly  regions 
of  the  lower  points  of  the  Mississippi,  will  take  their 
periodical  migrations  to  the  north,  with  the  geese  and 
swans  of  the  gulph,  and  with  them  return  in  the  win- 
ter. 

A  sea  voyage,  after  all  that  can  be  said  in  its  fa- 
vour, is  a  very  different  thing  from  all  this.  The  bar- 
ren and  boundless  expanse  of  waters,  soon  tires  upon 
every  eye  but  a  seaman's.  I  say  nothing  of  fasten- 
ing tables,  and  holding  fast  to  beds,  or  inability  to 
write  or  to  cook.  I  leave  out  of  sight  sea-sickness, 
and  the  danger  of  descending  to  those  sea-green  caves 
of  which  poetry  has  so  much  to  say.  Here  you  are 
always  near  the  shore,  always  see  the  green  earth,  can 
always  eat,  write,  and  sleep  undisturbed.  You  can 
always  obtain  cream,  fowls,  vegetables,  fruit,  wild 
game;  and  in  my  mind  there  is  no  kind  of  comparison 
between  the  comforts  and  discomforts  of  a  sea  and 
river  voyage. 

A  stranger  to  this  mode  of  travelling,  wrould  find  it 
difficult  to  describe  his  impressions  upon  first  descending 
the  Mississippi  in  one  of  the  better  steam-boats.  He 
contemplates  the  prodigious  establishment,  with  all  its 
fitting  of  deck  common,  and  ladies'  cabin  apartments. 
Over  head,  about  him  and  below  him,  all  is  life  and 
movement.  He  sees  its  splendid  cabin,  richly  carpet- 
ed, its  finishings  of  mahogany,  its  mirrors  and  fine 
furniture,  its  bar-room,  and  sliding-tables,  to  which 
eighty  passengers  can  sit  down  with  comfort.  The 


109 


fare  is  sumptuous,  and  every  thing  in  a  style  of  splen- 
dour, order,  quiet,  and  regularity,  far  exceeding  that  of 
taverns  in  general.  You  read,  you  converse,  you 
walk,  you  sleep,  as  you  choose ;  for  custom  has  pre- 
scribed that  every  thing  shall  be  "  sans  ceremonie." 
The  varied  and  verdant  scenery  shifts  around  you. 
The  trees,  the  green  islands,  have  an  appearance,  as 
by  enchantment,  of  moving  by  you.  The  river-fowl, 
with  their  white  and  extended  lines,  are  wheeling 
their  flight  above  you.  The  sky  is  bright.  The  river 
is  dotted  with  boats  above  you,  beside,  and  below  you. 
You  hear  the  echo  of  their  bugles  reverberating  from 
the  woods.  Behind  the  wooded  point,  you  see  the 
ascending  column  of  smoke,  rising  above  the  trees, 
which  announces  that  another  steam-boat  is  approach- 
ing you.  This  moving  pageant  glides  through  a  nar- 
row passage  between  an  island,  thick  set  with  young 
cotton-woods,  so  even,  so  regular,  and  beautiful  that 
they  seem  to  have  been  planted  for  a  pleasure  ground, 
and  the  main  shore.  As  you  shoot  out  again  into  the 
broad  stream,  you  come  in  view  of  a  plantation,  with 
all  its  busy  and  cheerful  accompaniments.  At  other 
times  you  are  sweeping  along  for  many  leagues  to- 
gether, where  either  shore  is  a  boundless  and  pathless 
wilderness.  And  the  contrast,  which  is  thus  so  strong- 
ly forced  upon  the  mind,  of  the  highest  improvement 
and  the  latest  invention  of  art,  with  the  most  lonely  as- 
pect of  a  grand  but  desolate  nature, — the  most  striking 
and  complete  assemblage  of  splendour  aud  comfort, 
the  cheerfulness  of  a  floating  hotel,  which  carries,  per- 
haps, two  hundred  guests,  with  a  wild  and  uninhabit- 
ed forest,  one  hundred  miles  in  width,  the  abode  only 
of  owls,  bears,  and  noxious  animals, — this  strong  con- 
trast produces,  to  me  at  least,  something  of  the  same. 


110 

pleasant  sensation  that  is  produced  by  lying  down  to 
sleep  with  the  rain  pouring  on  the  roof,  immediately 
over  head. 


LETTER  XIV. 

St.  Louis,  as  you  approach  it,  shows,  like  all  the 
other  French  towns  in  this  region,  to  much  the  great- 
est advantage  at  a  distance.  The  French  mode  of 
building,  and  the  white  coat  of  lime  applied  to  the  mud 
or  rough  stone  walls,  give  them  a  beauty  at  a  distance, 
which  gives  place  to  their  native  meanness,  when  you 
inspect  them  from  a  nearer  point  of  view.  The  town 
shows  to  very  great  advantage,  when  seen  from  the  op- 
posite shore,  in  the  American  bottom.  The  site  is  nat- 
urally a  most  beautiful  one,  rising  gradually  from  the 
shore  to  the  summit  of  the  bluff,  like  an  amphitheatre. 
It  contains  many  handsome,  and  a  few  splendid  build- 
ings. The  country  about  it  is  an  open,  pleasant,  and 
undulating  kind  of  half  prairie,  half  shrubbery.  A 
little  beyond  the  town,  there  is  considerable  smooth 
grass  prairie.  The  forest,  west  and  north  of  the 
town,  is  only  just  discernible  in  the  distance,  and  com- 
mences eight  miles  from  the  town.  Just  beyond  the 
skirts  of  the  town,  are  some  old,  white,  stone  forts, 
built  in  Spanish  times,  as  defences  against  the  In- 
dians, which  have  a  romantic  and  beautiful  appear- 
ance. A  little  northeast  of  the  town,  you  see  a  mound 
of  a  conical  form  and  considerable  elevation,  an  inter- 
esting relic  of  the  olden  time.  As  I  propose  a  more 
particular  description  of  the  town  in  another  place,  I 
shall  give  you  no  more  details  of  this  sort  here. 


Ill 


Just  above  the  point  made  by  the  junction  of  the 
Missouri  and  Mississippi,  is  Belle-fontaine,  formerly  a 
considerable  military  station,  where  a  few  companies 
of  soldiers  used  to  be  quartered  in  comfortable  bar- 
racks. There  is  a  pleasant  settlement  along  the 
banks  of  this  river,  up  to  the  cantonment.  At  Floris- 
sant there  is  a  delightful  small  prairie,  which  has  the 
appearance  of  having  been  in  former  days  the  bed  df  a 
lake.  The  soil  is  of  extreme  fertility,  and  as  black  as 
ink.  Here  are  large  tracts  covered  with  hazel  bushes, 
prairie  plumb,  and  crab  apple  trees.  The  beauty  and 
fertility  of  this  place  is  indicated  by  the  French  name. 
A  delightful  bottom  here  skirts  the  Missouri.  This 
place  has  a  convent,  a  building  of  considerable  size 
and  beauty.  It  contains  a  number  of  professed  re- 
|2n2  ligiof  s.  It  has  also  a  small  Catholic  church.  All 
the  region,  in  this  direction  from  St.  Louis,  is  marked 
at  intervals  with  flourishing  farms.  On  the  western 
direction  from  town,  at  eight  miles  distance,  com- 
mences the  settlement  of  Bon-homme,  extending  to 
the  Missouri,  which,  notwithstanding  its  French  name, 
is  almost  entirely  an  American  settlement.  Below 
the  town,  as  1  have  remarked,  is  the  French  village  of 
Carondelet.  These  settlements,  extending  to  the 
Maramec  and  the  Missouri,  for  nearly  thirty  miles' 
distance,  were  among  the  first  regions  which  1  explor- 
ed, as  a  missionary. 

In  these  pursuits  I  was  associated  with  another  gen- 
tleman, a  missionary  from  Connecticut.  We  found 
the  country,  as  it  respected  our  profession,  destitute  of 
a  single  church  or  preacher.  There  had  never  been, 
as  far  as  I  could  learn,  the  celebration  of  a  protest- 
ant  communion  in  St.  Louis.  I  administered  this 
ordinance  there.    Many  affecting  circumstances  ac- 


112 


companied  this  communion,  the  narration  of  which 
would,  I  suppose,  more  properly  belong  to  a  work  ex- 
clusively devoted  to  religious  intelligence.  One  cir- 
cumstance took  from  its  pleasantness  and  comfort,  and 
rendered  the  duty  perplexing.  The  members  that 
communed,  were  from  different  states  and  countries. 
Each  professor  seemed  pertinaciously  to  exact,  that 
the  peculiar  usages  of  his  church  should  be  adopted 
on  this  occasion,  and  seemed  not  a  little  shocked,  that 
in  order  to  meet  the  feelings  of  others,  equally  attach- 
ed to  their  peculiar  modes,  something  of  medium  and 
compromise  must  be  observed.  The  narrowness  of 
that  spirit  which  stands  as  strongly  for  the  "  mint  and 
cummin,"  as  the  "  weightier  matters,5'  and  the  com- 
pound of  temper,  pride,  and  self-will,  that  is  so  apt  to 
mix  unperceived  with  our  best  actions,  seldom  have  had 
a  fairer  scope,  and  seldom  showed  themselves  more 
strongly  than  on  this  occasion.  This  blind  attach- 
ment to  form  was  nobly  contrasted  with  the  simple 
and  striking  devotion  of  a  black  servant  of  a  Catholic 
Frenchman,  who  offered  himself  for  communion,  was 
carefully  examined,  and  accepted.  He  would  not  be 
dissuaded  from  making  his  small  offering  of  money 
with  the  rest.  u  God,"  said  he,  "  has  put  it  into  my 
heart  to  do  something  for  his  cause,  and  I  hope  you 
will  not  refuse  my  offering."  The  difficulties  in  the 
end.  were  happily  adjusted,  and  we  sat  down  in  peace. 

Here  would  be,  perhaps,  the  place  to  examine  the 
manner,  spirit,  and  success  of  my  ministry  for  years  in 
Missouri.  But  besides  that  we  have  already  exten- 
sively communicated  upon  these  subjects  with  each 
other,  you  know  that  my  present  plan  is  not  to  go  into 
this  kind  of  detail.  A  missionary  in  such  a  region, 
with  a  family,  feeble  in  health,  and  constituted  in  body 


113 

and  mind  as  I  am,  might  expect,  with  the  best  and 
most  earnest  intentions,  to  encounter  numberless  diffi- 
culties. The  region  was  just  beginning  to  be  peopled. 
All  the  elements  of  religious  combination  were  in  a 
state  of  chaos.  People  are  apt  every  where  to  regard 
the  form,  more  than  the  substance  of  religion.  In 
new  countries,  composed  of  emigrants  from  different 
regions,  forms  are  almost  the  only  thing  remembered 
and 'retained.  A  man  of  earnestness  of  mind,  and  of 
strong  feelings,  is  liable  to  be  depressed  and  enfeebled 
in  the  contemplation  of  such  a  field,  in  which  he  sees 
the  dark  side  of  things,  in  the  actual  exemplification  of 
what  passes  for  religion.  It  is  the  more  discouraging, 
from  its  having  at  first  a  very  different  aspect.  Your 
first  reception  is  apparently  cordial  in  the  highest  de- 
gree. Mutual  congratulations  that  you  are  come,  are 
interchanged,  and  all  promises  attention  and  harmony. 
As  you  inspect  things  more  intimately,  and  as  the  in- 
nate principles  of  disunion  begin  to  come  in  play,  this 
fair  prospect  becomes  gradually  overcast.  The  wor- 
shippers split  on  trifling  differences.  The  more  tri- 
fling, the  more  pertinaciously  they  cling  to  them,  and 
where  but  a  few  Sabbaths  before  all  'seemed  union, 
you  soon  find  that  all  is  discord.  Who  shall  be  the 
preacher  ?  what  modes  of  worship  shall  be  adopted  ? 
and  especially  where  shall  the  house,  or  place  of  wor- 
ship, be  located  ? — these  are  themes,  too  often,  of  bit- 
ter and  disorganizing  dispute. 

In  these  new  regions,  too,  of  the  most  absolute  in- 
dependence, you  see  all  the  wanderings  of  human 
thought,  every  shade  of  faith,  every  degree  of  the  most 
persevering  attachment  to  preconceived  opinions  You 
see,  too,  ail  degrees  of  pretension  in  religion,  followed 
by  unhappy  manifestations  of  the  holloWness  of  such 

15 


114 


pretension.  You  meet,  it  is  true,  with  more  cheering 
circumstances,  and  we  are  sometimes  able  to  see  that 
which  we  strongly  wish  to  see.  But  the  mission- 
ary must  prepare  himself  to  encounter  many  difficul- 
ties of  the  sort  which  I  have  enumerated. 

At  one  point  you  meet  with  a  respectable  Method- 
ist, and  begin  to  feel  an  attachment  to  the  profession. 
He  next  meets  you  with  harmony  and  co-operation  on 
his  lips,  and  the  next  thing  which  you  hear,  is,  'that 
you  are  charged  with  being  a  fierce  Calvinist,  and 
that  you  have  preached  that  44  hell  is  paved  with 
infants'  skulls."  While,  perhaps  the  society,  with 
which  you  are  connected,  hear  from  an  opposite  quar- 
ter, and  from  a  pretended  friend,  that  in  such  a  ser- 
mon you  departed  from  the  dicta  of  the  great  master, 
and  are  leading  the  people  to  the  gulph  of  Arminian- 
ism.  The  Baptists  are  as  exclusive  as  in  the  older 
regions.  Even  among  our  own  brethren,  it  is  well 
known,  that  there  is  some  feeling  of  a  questionable 
nature,  some  rivalry  between  the  pupils,  the  doctors, 
and  schools,  of  Andover  and  Princeton.  The  Cum- 
berland Presbyterians,  with  all  the  freshness  of  a  new 
sect,  are  not  .found  lacking  in  this  order  of  things. 
Lastly,  there  are  the  Catholics,  abundantly  more  unit- 
ed in  faith,  in  spirit,  and  in  purpose,  than  we  are, — 
who  claim  a  kind  of  prescriptive  right  to  the  ground, 
on  the  pretext  of  prior  possession.  We  know  that 
they  preach  as  a  standing  maxim,  u  Point  de  salut  hors 
de  Peglise,"  that  there  is  no  salvation  out  of  their 
church.  Add  to  these  the  followers  of  Elias  Smith, 
and  multitudes  of  men  who  would  be  founders  of  new 
sects,  and  who  erect  their  own  standard  in  the  wilder- 
ness, and  you  will  have  some  idea  of  the  sectarian  feel- 
ings that  you  will  have  to  encounter.    The  Atlantic 


115 


country  has  heard  much,  and  too  much,  about  their  wil- 
lingness to  support  preachers  in  these  regions.  There 
may  be  a  few  exceptions  that  have  not  come  to  my 
know  ledge,  widely  as  I  have  travelled  ;  but  I  feel  too 
well  assured,  all  other  representations  to  the  contrary 
notwithstanding,  that  the  people  think  in  general,  that 
attendance  upon  preaching,  sufficiently  compensates 
the  minister.  No  minister  of  any  protestant  denom- 
ination, to  my  knowledge,  has  ever  received  a  suffi- 
cient living  two  years  in  succession.  Take  these  cir- 
cumstances together,  and  you  will  then  have  some 
idea  of  a  minister's  prospect  of  worldly  success  and 
comfort  in  these  regions. 

Have  they  not  been  useful  ?  Have  they  not  had 
success  ?  I  would  hope  both.  The  precursors  in 
new  regions  have  generally  encountered  such  trials  as 
are  recited  above.  But,  I  would  hope,  not  in  vain. 
They  have  drawn  sighs,  that  have  only  reached  the 
ear  of  Heaven.  Not  one  good  word  or  work  has  been 
without  its  impression.  The  seed,  which  seems  to 
have  been  scattered  in  a  sterile  desert,  may  spring  up ; 
but,  perhaps,  not  till  a  future  and  more  favoured  period. 
Many  faithful,  laborious,  and  patient  men,  who  have 
been  associated  with  me  in  these  labours,  have  fallen 
in  tiiese  wildernesses,  after  having  encountered  all  these 
difficulties.  What  is  worse,  they  have  fallen  almost 
unnoticed,  and  their  labours  and  sufferings  unrecorded. 
For  they  toiled  and  died,  though  it  may  be  eight  hun- 
dred leagues  away,  in  an  American  desert ;  and  with 
such  a  decease,  there  are  connected  no  feelings  of  ro- 
mance. But  the  missionary,  who  falls  in  a  foreign 
land,  is  lamented  as  a  hero  and  a  martyr.  Provision 
is  made  for  his  family,  and  the  enthusiasm  and  regret 
of  romantic  sensibility  attach  to  his  memory. 


116 


If  my  plan  admitted  such  narrative,  I  would  at- 
tempt, in  my  humble  way,  to  rescue  from  oblivion,  the 
names  of  three  young  men  whom  I  knew  intimately, 
and  who  died  in  the  discharge  of  missionary  duties  in 
these  regions.  I  heard  of  the  death  of  others,  that  I 
knew  not.  But  freed  from  earth  and  its  toils,  their 
bones  moulder  in  these  remote  prairies,  as  peacefully 
as  though  their  fall  had  been  recorded,  their  names 
and  deeds  eulogized.  They  were  exemplary  and  de- 
voted men,  and  their  names  are  no  doubt  recorded  on 
more  durable  tablets,  than  the  frail  memorials  of  men. 

Let  not  the  inference  be  drawn,  that  I  would  de- 
scribe the  men  of  these  countries  as  peculiarly  bad,  or 
indisposed  to  religion.  Truth  and  gratitude  equally 
forbid,  that  any  thing  should  fall  from  my  pen,  intend- 
ing to  convey  the  conclusion  that  this  is  in  any  respect 
a  degenerate  race  of  men.  The  evils  do  not  belong 
to  them  in  particular,  but  to  human  nature  placed  in 
such  circumstances.  I  mean  in  another  letter,  as  far 
as  honest  acd  earnest  intentions  will  go,  to  vindicate  a 
class  of  people,  who  have  been  grossly  misrepresented, 
and  misunderstood, — the  western  backwoodsmen. 

But  I  am  ready  to  believe  that  most  of  the  mission- 
aries, who  have  been  long  in  these  countries,  could,  if 
they  chose,  deliver  an  unvarnished  and  uncoloured 
statement  of  having  found  things  much  as  I  have  de- 
scribed them.  For  myself,  I  could  easily  fill  a  volume 
with  the  details  of  trials,  perplexities,  and  sufferings. 
I  have  laboured  much,  not  in  the  vain  hope  of  obtain- 
ing either  much  compensation  or  much  fame.  Should  I 
describe  all  that  I  was  called  to  endure,  from  sickness, 
opposition,  and  privation,  and  from  causes  unnecessary 
to  be  named,  the  most  sober  account  would  seem  like 
the  fictions  of  romance.  I  speak  to  one  not  ignorant 
of  the  real  state  of  things. 


117 


As  it  respects  the  varieties  of  religious  opinion  in 
that  country,  and  in  yours,  of  one  thing  I  have  long 
been  deeply  convinced, — that  religion  is  love,  love 
to  God  and  to  men  ;  that  if  there  should  ever  be  any 
thing  like  assent  to  a  common  faith  on  the  earth,  it 
will  be  to  experimental  religion,  the  religion  of  the 
heart.  Disputation  and  discussion,  under  the  mistak- 
en idea  of  enlightening  the  understanding,  tend  to 
banish  the  small  remains  of  religion  from  among  us. 
The  heart,  I  believe,  can  be  drawn  out  by  a  principle 
of  attraction  to  God,  when  there  are  great  errors  in 
the  understanding.  When  will  people  cease  to  dog- 
matize, and  define,  and  dispute,  and  place  religion  in 
knowledge,  and  the  settling  of  points  ?  The  ethereal 
essence  evaporates  in  such  a  harsh  process.  The 
world  has  had  enough,  and  too  much,  of  learned  trea- 
tises upon  what  is  and  what  is  not  religion.  The  ten 
thousand  will  never  have  very  learned  or  philosophical 
ideas  upon  the  subject.  But  each  one  of  them  can 
feel  compunction,  and  pour  out  the  soul  before  God. 
Happy,  and  thrice  happy,  in  my  judgment,  if  men  laid 
less  stress  upon  knowledge,  and  more  upon  experi- 
mental acquaintance  with  the  power  of  religion.  You 
have  so  much  and  so  earnestly  combated  the  idea  of 
an  implicit  faith,  that  I  hardly  dare  advance  my  opin- 
ion upon  the  subject  here.  But  I  have  long  been 
firmly  of  the  opinion,  that  the  Catholics  wrere  right,  in 
representing  much  questioning,  and  disputing  of  points, 
as  ruinous  in  their  tendencies.  The  multitude  never 
had,  have  not  now,  and  1  judge  will  never  have,  an 
influential  faith,  except  it  be  an  implicit  one. 

You  and  I  think  alike,  about  the  monstrous  absurdi- 
ties of  the  Catholic  faith  ;  but  we  differ  about  what  if 
would  be,  if  these  absurdities  were  laid  aside,  as  I 


118 


trust  they  gradually  will  be.  There  can  be  no  ques- 
tion about  the  revolting  contradictions  of  the  real  pres- 
ence, the  infallibility  of  the  pope  or  the  church,  and 
other  additions  of  the  dark  ages  to  their  faith  and  cer- 
emonial. But  their  reverential  attachment  to  their 
ministers,  their  disposition  to  regard  their  church  and 
their  doctrine  every  where  as  one,  their  unwillingness 
to  dispute  about  the  articles  of  their  faith,  their  dispo- 
sition to  sacrifice  personal  interests  to  the  common 
cause,  and  the  imposing  forms  of  their  worship, — might 
not  be  regarded  by  protestants  without  utility.  When 
I  have  seen  tranquillity  settle  on  the  expiring  counte- 
nance of  the  Catholic,  after  his  minister  has  adminis- 
tered extreme  unction  and  said,  "  Depart,  christian 
soul,"  I  have  regretted  the  condition  of  those  who 
have  always  been  perplexing  themselves  about  points 
,  that  human  reason  has  no  concern  with,  and  who  have 
nothing  but  doubting  for  this  last  solemn  hour. 

You  know  that  I  suffered  acute  disease  repeatedly, 
and  was  more  than  once  shaken  over  the  grave.  My 
general  health  was  feeble.  I  had  a  considerable  fam- 
ily. In  the  latter  part  of  my  ministry  there,  I  was 
unable  to  endure  the  fatigue  incident  to  the  duties  of 
a  missionary.  For  two  years  I  derived  not  support 
enough  from  the  people, — though  I  laboured  "  in  sea- 
son and  out  of  season," — to  defray  the  expenses  of  my 
ferriage  over  the  rivers.  But  I  saw  my  happy  times, 
when  the  people  seemed  affected,  and  in  earnest  upon 
the  subject  of  religion.  I  had  my  hours,  when  debil- 
ity, and  concern  for  my  family,  and  trials,  and  oppo- 
sition, all  vanished,  and  I  saw  nothing  but  God  and 
eternity.  Still  it  will  be  to  me,  as  it  would  to  every 
conscientious  man,  matter  of  grief  and  abasement  of 
spirit,  that  I  can  look  back  upon  neglected  opportuni- 


119 


ties  to  do  good,  that  can  never  return.  On  the  other 
hand,  I  look  back  with  pleasure  upon  many  instances 
in  which  I  was  enabled  to  convey  charity  and  relief  to 
the  destitute  stranger  in  sickness,  and  consolation  to 
the  dying,  and  decent  and  christian  burial  to  the  dead. 
I  remember  no  people  in  that  region  more  gratefully, 
than  those  of  whose  bounty  in  such  cases  1  was  the 
almoner.  Though  I  have  far  more  occasion  for  self- 
rebuke  than  complacency,  yet  I  am  aware  that  the 
effects  of  envy  and  misrepresentation, — and  every  in- 
dependent man  who  has  thought  for  himself,  will  have 
to  encounter  them  as  I  did, — have  passed  away.  In 
the  memory  of  the.  best,  I  have  a  humble  conviction 
that  my  poor  services  will  survive. 

If  i  could  give  you  details  from  my  daily  journal,  it 
would  only  embrace  frequent  and  distant  journies, 
the  Grossing  of  rivers,  forming  new  places  of  worship, 
attempts  to  settle  disputes  as  they  arose,  in  short,  such 
labours  as  are  severe,  and  bring,  as  the  world  counts 
it,  neither  honour  nor  profit.  In  looking  back  upon 
them,  ftjom  the  immense  distance  where  I  write  this, 
they  assume  only  the  appearance  of  a  long  and  labori- 
ous dream.  We  certainly  saw  a  very  great  change  in 
the  moral  aspect  of  the  country.  At  St.  Louis  we 
saw  arise  a  considerable  and  a  very  serious  and  re- 
spectable Presbyterian  church.  In  St.  Charles,  where 
there  was  not  a  professor  of  our  form  of  religion  when 
I  went  there,  we  saw  arise  a  large  church,  a  small  but 
neat  place  of  worship,  various  charitable  societies,  and 
a  very  striking  change  in  the  manners  of  the  people. 
We  counted,  in  various  parts  of  the  state,  a  number  of 
churches  and  ministers  of  our  order,  and  when  we 
went  there,  they  had  not  one.  We  had  three  efficient 
bible  societies,  and  many  sunday  schools  and  associa- 
tions of  a  like  character. 


120 


In  dividing  my  labours  with  the  gentlemen,  with 
whom  I  was  associated,  it  was  deemed  expedient  that 
I  should  locate  myself  at  St.  Charles,  on  the  Missouri ; 
a  place  central  to  the  population  of  the  state,  and 
which  has  since  been  the  seat  of  government.  Accor- 
dingly, in  the  same  keel-boat  which  brought  us  from 
Cincinnati,  we  moved  in  September  to  St.  Charles. 
The  tenth  of  that  month,  1816,  we  saw  the  mouth  of 
the  Missouri,  the  largest  tributary  stream  in  the  world. 
It  strikes  the  upper  Mississippi,  which  is  a  broad, 
placid  stream,  a  mile  in  width,  nearly  at  right  angles. 
It  pours  along  a  narrow,  but  deep,  rapid,  and  turbid 
current,  white  with  the  amount  of  marly  clay,  with 
which  it  is  charged.  It  is  impossible  to  contemplate, 
without  interest,  a  river  which  rises  in  vast  and  name- 
less mountains,  and  runs  at  one  time  through  deep 
forests,  and  then  through  grassy  plains,  between  three 
and  four  thousand  miles,  before  it  arrives  here.  My 
family  ascended  to  St.  Charles  in  the  boat,  and  I  went 
up  by  land. 

Having  crossed  a  deep  bottom  of  two  miles  in 
width,  1  came  out  upon  the  first  prairie  of  any  great 
size  or  beauty  that  I  had  seen.  It  was  Sabbath,  and 
a  fine  September  morning.  Every  object  was  brilliant 
with  a  bright  sun,  and  wet  with  a  shower  that  had 
fallen  the  preceding  evening.  The  first  time  a  stran- 
ger comes  in  view  of  this  prairie,  take  it  all  in  all,  the 
most  beautiful  that  I  have  ever  seen,  a  scene  strikes 
him  that  will  never  be  forgotten.  The  noble  border  of 
Wood,  that  with  its  broad  curve  skirts  this  prairie,  has 
features  peculiar  to  the  Missouri  bottom,  and  distinct 
from  that  of  the  Mississippi.  1  observed  the  cotton 
trees  to  be  immensely  tall,  rising  like  Corinthian  col- 
umns, enwrapped  with  a  luxuriant  wreathing  of  ivy, 


121 


and  the  bignonia  radicans,  with  its  splendid,  trumpet- 
shaped  flowers,  displayed  them  glittering  in  the  sun, 
quite  on  the  summits  of  the  trees.  The  prairie  itself 
was  a  most  glorious  spectacle.  Such  a  sea  of  verdure, 
in  one  direction  extending  beyond  the  reach  of  the 
eye,  and  presenting  millions  of  flowers  of  every  scent 
and  hue,  seemed  an  immense  flower  garden.  The  air 
was  soft  and  mild.  The  smoke  streamed  aloft  from 
the  houses  and  cabins,  which  indented  the  prairie,  just 
in  the  edge  of  the  wood.  The  best  view  of  this  prai- 
rie is  from  the  "  Marnelles,"  which  bound  it  on  the 
west. 

There  are  evident  indications,  that  these  mighty 
rivers,  the  Missouri  and  the  upper  Mississippi,  once 
united  at  the  foot  of  the  Mamelles.  These  are  a  suc- 
cession of  regular,  cone-shaped  bluffs,  which  the 
French, — who  are  remarkable  for  giving  names  sig- 
nificant of  the  fancied  resemblance  of  the  thing, — have 
supposed  to  resemble  the  object  whose  name  they  bear. 
From  the  declivity  of  these  .beautiful  eminences  to  the 
present  union  of  the  rivers,  is,  by  their  meanders, 
twenty-five  miles.  The  prairie  extends  from  them 
more  than  half  this  distance  towards  the  junction.  To 
the  right,  the  Missouri  converges  towards  the  Missis- 
sippi, by  an  easy  curve,  the  limits  of  which  are  marked 
by  the  Missouri  bluffs,  which  form  a  blue  and  indent- 
ed outline,  over  the  tops  of  the  grand  forest  bottoms. 
You  can  trace  these  bluffs  to  the  point  of  union.  To 
the  left,  your  eye  catches  the  much  broader  curve  of 
the  upper  Mississippi,  which  presents  a  regular  section 
of  an  immense  circle.  Your  eye  follows  this  curve 
forty  miles.  In  the  whole  of  this  distance,  the  oppo- 
site, or  Illinois  shore,  is  marked  with  a  noble  and  bold 
outline,  over  which  hovers  a  blue  and  smoky  mist. 
16 


122 


The  perfect  smoothness  of  the  basin  enclosed  between 
the  two  rivers,  a  carpet  of  verdure  diversified  with  the 
most  beautify]  flowers,  and  the  great  extent  of  the 
curve,  give  the  perpendicular  bluffs  that  bound  the  ba- 
sin, the  aspect  of  mountains.  This  curve  presents  an 
unbroken  blue  outline,  except  in  one  point,  and 
through  that  chasm  is  seen  the  Illinois,  whose  cliffs 
are  just  discovered  fading  away  in  the  distance,  at  the 
east. 

Between  such  magnificent  outlines,  from  the  foot  of 
the  Mamelles,  the  prairie,  in  ascending  towards  the 
north,  has  a  width  of  five  miles,  and  is  seventy  miles 
in  length.  On  the  Mississippi  side,  the  prairie  touches 
the  river  for  most  of  this  distance.  The  aspect  of  the 
whole  surface  is  so  smooth,  so  level,  and  the  verdure  so 
delightful,  that  the  eye  reposes  upon  it.  Houses  at 
eight  miles  distance  over  this  plain,  seem  just  at  your 
feet.  A  few  spreading  trees  planted  by  hand,  are  dotted 
here  and  there  upon  the  surface.  Two  fine  islands 
of  woodland,  of  a  circular  form,  diversify  the  view. 
Large  flocks  of  cattle  and  horses  are  seen  grazing  to- 
gether. It  is  often  the  case  that  a  flock  of  wild  deer 
is  seen  bounding  over  the  plain.  In  the  autumn, 
immense  flocks  of  pelicans,  sand-bills,  cranes,  geese, 
swans,  ducks,  and  all  kinds  of  aquatic  fowls,  are  seen 
hover  in  2:  over  it.  The  soil  is  of  the  easiest  culture 
and  the  most  exuberant  productiveness.  The  farms 
are  laid  out  in  parallelograms.  At  the  foot  of  the 
Mamelles  are  clumps  of  hazel  bushes,  pawpaws,  wild 
grapes,  and  prairie  plums,  in  abundance.  The  grass 
is  thick  and  tall.  Corn  and  wheat  grow  in  the  great- 
est perfection.  When  I  first  saw  this  charming  scene, 
"  Here,"  said  I  to  my  companion  w7ho  guided  me, 
"here  shall  be  my  farm,  and  here  I  will  end  my 


123 


days!  "  In  effect,  take  it  all  in  all,  I  have  not  seen, 
before  nor  since,  a  landscape  which  united,  in  an  equal 
degree,  the  grand,  the  beautiful,  and  fertile.  It  is  not 
necessary  in  seeing  it  to  be  very  young  or  very  roman- 
tic, in  order  to  have  dreams  steal  over  the  mind,  of 
spending  an  Arcadian  life  in  these  remote  plains, 
which  just  begin  to  be  vexed  with  the  plough,  far  re- 
moved from  the  haunts  of  wealth  and  fashion,  in  the 
midst  of  rustic  plenty,  and  of  this  beautiful  nature. 

I  will  only  add,  that  it  is  intersected  with  two  or 
three  canals,  apparently  the  former  beds  of  the  river ; 
that  the  soil  is  mellow,  friable,  and  of  an  inky  black- 
ness ;  that  it  immediately  absorbs  the  rain,  and  affords 
a  road,  always  dry  and  beautiful,  to  Portage  des  Sioux. 
It  yields  generally  forty  bushels  of  wheat,  and  seventy 
of  corn  to  the  acre.  The  vegetable  soil  has  a  depth  of 
forty  feet,  and  earth  thrown  from  the  bottom  of  the 
wrells,  is  as  fertile  as  that  on  the  surface.  At  a  depth 
of  forty  feet  are  found  logs,  leaves,  pieces  of  pit-coal, 
and  a  stratum  of  sand  and  pebbles,  bearing  evident 
marks  of  the  former  attrition  of  running  waters.  Here 
are  a  hundred  thousand  acres  of  land  of  this  descrip- 
tion, fit  for  the  plough. 

At  the  lower  and  northern  edge  of  this  prairie,  is 
the  French  village  of  Portage  des  Sioux ;  and  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  river  the  beautiful  bluffs  of  which 
I  have  spoken.  While  I  stood  on  the  Mamelles,  and 
was  looking  in  that  direction,  slight  clouds  and  banks 
of  mist  obscured  them  from  view.  In  a  few  moments 
the  wind  arose  and  dispersed  the  mists,  and  they  burst 
upon  me  in  all  the  splendour  of  their  height  and  hoary 
whiteness.  My  companion,  accustomed  as  he  was  to 
the  view,  and  not  at  all  addicted  to  raptures,  exclaim- 
ed that  he  had  never  seen  them  look  so  beautiful.  For 


m 

myself,  although  1  had  seen  on  passing  them,  that  they 
were  on  the  skirt  of  an  unpeopled  solitude,  I  could 
hardly  persuade  myself,  so  complete  was  the  illusion, 
that  I  did  not  behold  a  noble  and  ancient  town,  built 
of  stone,  whose  immense  buildings  were  surmounted 
with  towers  and  spires. 

rlhat  they  impress  other  imaginations  in  the  same 
way,  will  appear  from  an  incident  that  occurred  some 
years  after.  In  crossing  the  prairie,  and  descending 
towards  Portage  des  Sioux,  I  came  up  with  a  French- 
man descending  also  from  St.  Charles  to  that  place. 
The  village  before  us  was  hidden  from  our  view  by 
an  interposing  bench.  As  I  came  up  with  him,  he 
asked  me  the  distance  and  the  direction  to  Portage  des 
Sioux.  I  mentioned  the  distance,  and  pointed  in  the 
direction,  remarking  that  the  village  was  behind  the 
bench,  and  could  not  be  seen  until  we  arrived  there. 
He  was  a  gay,  buoyant  fellow,  just  from  old  France, 
and  with  the  characteristic  disposition  to  see  every 
thing  in  its  best  and  gayest  light.  "  Derriere  les 
bancs ! "  said  he,  pointing  with  a  flourish  of  his  hand 
to  the  hoary  pinnacles  of  the  bluffs.  44  Pas  du  tout, 
monsieur  !  Voila  la  ville  !  Une  place  superbe  !  "  He 
chose  to  find  the  city,  not  in  mud-walled  cottages,  but 
in  turrets  and  spires,  like  those  of  Paris. 

In  ascending  the  rivers,  the  Mississippi  is  swifter 
and  more  difficult  to  surmount  above  the  mouth  of  the 
Ohio  than  it  is  below.  The  Missouri  is  considerably 
more  difficult  of  navigation  than  the  Mississippi.  It 
possesses  all  the  characteristics  of  that  river  in  a  still 
higher  degree.  It  is  more  fierce  and  unsparing  in  its 
wrath,  sweeping  islands  and  large  tracts  of  ground 
away  on  one  hand,  to  form  an  island  and  a  sand-bar 
with  them  on  another.    In  ascending  to  St.  Charles, 


125 


my  family  experienced  great  difficulty.  Ffom  the 
mouth  to  that  place,  and  especially  in  passing  Belle 
Fontaine,  the  water  is  extremely  difficult  and  dange- 
rous. It  is  almost  a  continued  ripple,  pouring  furious- 
ly against  the  numerous  sawyers,  which  give  the  river 
the  appearance  of  a  field  of  dead  trees.  On  the  morn- 
ing of  the  fifth  day  from  St.  Louis,  my  family  arrived 
at  St.  Charles,  on  the  north  bank  of  the  Missouri,  dis- 
tant from  the  former  place,  by  the  course  of  the  river, 
forty  miles.  We  were  soon  situated  in  a  house  be- 
tween the  first  and  second  bluffs,  a  little  distance  from 
the  village,  in  a  situation  delightfully  sheltered  by 
fruit-trees  and  shrubbery.  Madame  Duquette,  a  re- 
spectable widow,  owned  it,  and  occupied  one  half  with 
us.  The  town  is  partly  visible  from  this  retirement, 
although  the  noise  is  not  heard.  The  river  spreads 
out  below  it  in  a  wide  and  beautiful  bay,  adorned 
with  an  island  thick  set  with  those  regular  cotton 
trees,  which  so  much  resemble  trees  that  have  been 
planted  for  a  pleasure  ground.  The  trees  about  the 
house  were  literally  bending  under  their  loads  of  ap- 
ples, pears,  and  the  yellow  Osage  plum.  Above  the 
house,  and  on  the  summit  of  the  bluff,  is  a  fine  tract 
of  high  and  level  plain,  covered  with  hazie  bushes  and 
wild  hops,  a  great  abundance  of  grapes,  and  the  red 
prairie  plums.  In  this  peaceful  and  pleasant  residence 
we  passed  two  happy  years,  unmarked  by  any  unusual 
suffering  or  disaster. 

The  first  Sabbath  that  I  preached  at  St.  Charles, 
before  morning  worship,  directly  opposite  the  house 
where  service  was  to  take  place,  there  was  a  horse- 
race. The  horses  received  the  signal  to  start  away 
just  as  I  rode  to  the  door.  I  have  adverted  to  the 
point  before,  but  I  cannot  forbear  to  relate,  that  six 


126 


years  after,  when  I  left  the  place,  it  was  after  a  com- 
munion, where  the  services  had  been  performed  in  a 
decent  brick  church,  in  which  forty  communicants 
had  received  communion.  When  the  legislature  sat 
here,  which  it  had  then  done  for  three  sessions,  the 
members  remarked  upon  the  seriousness  and  regularity 
of  the  inhabitants  of  this  place,  and  were  in  the  habit 
of  drawing  strong  inferences  in  favour  of  the  influence 
of  religion.  In  St.  Louis  and  in  other  places,  where 
churches  were  formed,  it  was  remarked  that  the  man- 
ners of  the  people  became  visibly  softened  and  refined. 
We  had  considerable  societies  in  St.  Louis,  St. 
Charles,  at  Bon-homme,  at  the  Mines,  at  Jackson  in 
Cape  Girardeau,  and  in  other  directions  in  the  old  and 
settled  parts  of  the  state.  We  had  also  societies  at 
Boon's  Lick,  and  in  the  new  settlements  that  sprung 
up  on  the  upper  Mississippi.  We  were  in  the  habit  of 
being  often  consulted  by  the  people,  about  building 
tempory  places  of  public  worship.  We  soon  found 
that  this  furnished  a  fruitful  source  of  discord.  It  was 
hoped  that  the  location  of  a  place  of  worship  would  be- 
come in  time  the  centre  of  a  village.  At  any  rate, 
every  man  of  any  influence  would  choose  to  have  it 
brought  contiguous  to  his  plantation.  From  this  cir- 
cumstance as  well  as  from  party  feeling,  and  feuds  in 
neighbourhoods,  the  dispute  often  became  so  bitter, 
where  the  place  of  worship  should  be  placed,  that  it 
ended  in  its  not  being  built  at  all. 

The  far  greater  proportion  of  those  who  had  been 
reared  in  a  predilection  for  our  forms  of  worship,  were 
attached  to  the  Presbyterian  discipline.  We  deemed 
it  expedient  to  form  a  Presbytery,  and  we  soon  had 
one  composed  of  five  ministers,  who  had  been  regular- 
ly educated  to  the  ministry.  Our  meetings  were  uni- 
formly conducted  with  great  harmony. 


127 


The  second  year  of  my  residence  in  Missouri,  we 
were  called  to  the  Mine  district,  regularly  to  induct 
into  office  a  young  gentleman  wfjo  had  been  trained 
to  the  ministry  under  the  Rev.  Gideon  Blackburn. 
The  gentleman,  though  sick  of  the  measles  at  the  time 
of  his  ordination,  was  inducted  into  office,  apparently 
with  happy  auspices.  To  the  place  of  ordination  was 
a  journey  of  eighty  miles.  I  performed  it  in  company 
with  the  Rev.  Mr.  Mathews,  a  Presbyterian  minister, 
formerly  of  Pennsylvania,  an  Irishman  by  birth,  a 
gentlemen  of  great  strictness  of  principle  and  charac- 
ter, whose  occasional  facetiousness  and  pleasantry  had 
infinitely  more  force,  as  they  beamed  from  a  counte- 
nance naturally  hard  and  austere,  and  from  whom, 
judging  by  his  tenets  or  his  manner,  no  such  things 
could  have  been  expected. 

This  long  journey  had  many  circumstances  of  inter- 
est, and  is  very  pleasant  to  me  in  the  recollection. 
We  made  our  way  among  the  high  hills,  and  flint 
knobs,  and  desolate  vallies  of  the  Maramec,  cutting 
short  the  way  with  anecdote  and  narrative,  mutually 
relating  the  scenes  and  events  of  our  youth.  As  1 
shall  attempt  a  description  of  the  Mine  district  in  an- 
other place,  I  shall  only  remark  here,  that  the  Mara- 
mec, where  we  crossed  it,  fifty  miles  from  its  mouth,  is 
a  wide,  rapid,  and  shallow  river,  running  among  high 
hills,  and  having  all  the  characteristics  of  a  clear,  cool, 
and  mountain  stream.  It  had  narrow,  but  very  pleas- 
ant bottoms,  along  which  a  few  settlers  were  fixed. 
In  looking  from  the  high  and  lonely  hills  upon  the  riv- 
er, foaming  along  among  its  woods,  and  often  meander- 
ing many  miles  in  advancing  one  in  a  direct  course, 
we  saw  some  cabins,  so  secluded,  so  shut  in  by  hills 
on  every  side,  that  they  seemed  to  have  no  neighbours 


128 


but  rocks  and  mountains,  and  to  be  left  alone  with 
nature-  I  have  seen  no  situations  which  brought  to 
my  mind  such  strong  images  of  solitude  as  these. 

The  second  day  we  missed  our  way,  and  wandered 
about  among  the  hills,  until  after  midnight.  We  had 
calculated  to  pass  the  night  "  sub  dio,"  under  the  open 
sky.  We  finally  heard  the  barking  of  dogs,  by  which 
we  were  directed  to  a  house.  We  suffered  not  a  little 
peril  in  making  our  approaches  to  the  place?  from  a 
pack  of  fierce  dogs,  which  had  been  taught  to  fly  upon 
Indians,  who  had  been  occasionally  lurking  about 
during  the  war  that  had  just  closed.  Seeing  us  ap- 
proach at  that  unseasonable  hour,  they  probably  took 
us  for  the  same  kind  of  enemy,  and  we  had  fearful 
evidence  that  thej'  considered  their  master's  house  as 
his  castle,  and  that  they  meant  to  defend  it  with  all 
their  force.  We  ascended  a  little  building  and  took 
ourselves  out  of  their  way  until  we  raised  the  master. 
Although  it  was  but  a  cabin,  and  the  hour  so  unsea- 
sonable,  we  were  most  hospitably  received  and  enter- 
tained. Indeed  I  have  very  pleasing  recollections  of 
hospitality  from  all  the  inhabitants  of  these  remote  re- 
gions, wrhere  we  called. 

On  this  journey,  for  the  first  time  since  I  left  New 
England,  I  passed  through  a  long  tract  of  pines.  You 
who  are  so  deeply  affected  with  the  same  grand  and 
simple  music,  will  easily  conjecture  what  were  my 
meditations,  as  the  solemn  and  funereal  hum  of  the 
winds  died  away  in  the  tops  of  these  forests.  You 
will  not  doubt  that  remembrances  of  distant  friends, 
and  of  our  early  years,  when  this  music  was  almost 
daily  heard,  rushed  upon  me.  I  could  not  satiate  my 
eyes  in  gazing  upon  the  trees  of  my  native  hills.  I 
returned  by  the  way  of  St.  Genevieve,  Herculaneum, 
and  St.  Louis,  to  St.  Charles. 


129 


The  next  summer,  in  company  with  a  couple  of 
friends,  I  made  a  journey  up  the  Illinois.  This  river 
enters  the  upper  Mississippi  something  more  than  twen- 
ty miles  above  the  mouth  of  the  Missouri.  In  ascending 
the  Mississippi  on  the  Illinois  side,  we  passed  a  village 
of  the  Illinois  Indians.  The  Illinois  brings  in  a  clear 
and  broad  stream,  four  hundred  and  fifty  yards  wide, 
in  a  channel  as  strait  and  regular  as  a  canal.  Near 
the  mouth,  it  seems  almost  destitute  of  current.  A 
short  distance  above  the  mouth,  opens  the  prairie,  that 
skirts  the  river.  It  is  beautiful,  being  from  two  to 
three  miles  in  width,  of  the  same  fertility  with  that  I 
have  attempted  to  describe  already.  Beyond  this  prai- 
rie is  a  skirt  of  open  w  oods,  and  the  whole  is  bound- 
ed by  a  lime-stone  bluff,  smooth  and  perpendicular, 
and  generally  from  two  to  three  hundred  feet  high. 
A  natural  wall,  so  grand,  regular,  and  continued,  I 
have  seen  no  where  else.  It  is  many  miles  in  extent; 
and  would  look  down  upon  the  famed  walls  of  Baby- 
Ion  or  China.  On  the  opposite  shore,  was  a  deep  and 
tangled  bottom,  full  of  a  most  luxuriant  vegetation,  but 
subject  to  be  overflowed.  Beyond  the  bottom,  was  a 
long  series,  league  after  league,  of  those  siugular  and 
regular-shaped  hills  called  "  Mamelles."  As  has  been 
remarked  on  the  Ohio,  we  observed  that  when  the 
prairie  and  stone  bluffs  shifted  to  the  opposite  shore, 
the  wooded  bottom  and  the  Mamelles  were  found  on 
the  side  on  which  we  were  travelling. 

This  was  a  district  of  the  military  lands.  Some  of 
the  soldiers  were  here  to  examine  the  value  of  their 
acquisitions.  Others  had  already  fixed  themselves  on 
their  lands.  The  settlers  were  generally  in  the  tim- 
bered land,  that  skirted  the  edge  of  the  prairie.  Were 
I  to  remark  here  upon  the  astonishing  fertility  of  this 
17 


130 


prairie  and  bottom,  it  would  only  seem  like  repetition 
of  what  has  been  remarked  upon  the  first  prairie  of 
the  Missouri.  For  a  considerable  distance  up  the  Illi- 
nois it  is  still  near  the  Mississippi.  After  ascending 
it  two  days,  we  were  told  that  river  was  only  three 
miles  distant.  A  very  rough  and  elevated  bluff  inter- 
poses between  the  prairies  of  the  two  rivers.  As  we 
stood  on  its  summit,  we  could  observe  the  course  of 
each  river  for  a  great  distance,  and  could  trace  the 
beautiful  prairie  on  each,  in  configuration  and  sinuosi- 
ties, conforming  to  the  meanders  of  its  river.  We 
concluded  that  from  the  point  where  we  were,  when  the 
ground  was  covered  with  ice  or  snow,  a  sledge,  start- 
ed from  this  summit  either  way,  would  reach  the  banks 
of  either  river  by  its  own  descending  force.  We  de- 
scended from  the  bluff  to  the  upper  Mississippi,  and 
rode  up  another  rich  and  charming  prairie,  with  the 
grass  sometimes  as  high  as  onr  heads,  on  our  horses. 
We  went  up  to  examine  the  site  of  a  new  town,  that 
had  been  advertised  with  great  eclat  in  the  papers.  In 
effect,  for  pleasantness  and  fertility  nothing  could  ex- 
ceed it.  But  we  were  obliged  to  imagine  the  bustle 
of  population,  the  blocks  of  buildings,  the  wealth  and 
splendour,  that  we  were  told  would  one  day  be  here. 
At  present  all  was  solitude  and  silence.  Not  a  single 
dwelling  was  any  where  in  view.  But  deer  and  wild 
fowl  were  in  sufficient  abundance. 

At  a  considerable  distance  up  the  Illinois,  and  di- 
rectly on  its  banks,  we  came,  as  we  returned,  upon 
the  cabins  of  three  families  of  Pottawatomie  Indians. 
The  water  of  the  river, — at  this  season  of  the  year 
warm  and  of  a  marshy  taste, — wastheir  drink;  and  their 
cabins  were  more  smoky  and  dirty,  and  their  fare  appa- 
rently more  scanty  and  wretched,  than  falls  to  the  lot  of 


131 


savages  in  general.  They  were  of  that  class,  which  form 
the  intermediate  link  between  the  social  and  savage  state. 
In  a  tall,  meagre,  and  sallow  woman*  with  the  dirt  and 
smoke  worn  into  her  complexion,  my  companion  re- 
cognised a  young  French  woman  of  unmixed  blood, 
with  whom,  as  he  said,  he  had  often  danced  as  a  part- 
ner at  the  balls,  at  Portage  des  Sioux.  He  declared 
that  she  had  formerly  been  considered  the  belle  of  that 
village,  and  the  queen  of  the  wake,  and  that  against 
\  the  remonstrances  of  her  parents,  she  had  yoked  her- 
self with  the  tall  and  dirty  savage,  with  whom  she 
now  lived.  The  third  night  of  our  journey  we  were 
benighted  in  a  storm  of  thunder  and  rain,  and  were 
glad  to  take  shelter  in  a  wigwam.  The  order  of 
things  was  here  reversed.  The  husband  was  a 
Frenchman  and  the  wife  a  squaw.  No  words  can 
reach  the  description  of  the  filthiness  and  apparent 
misery  of  this  wretched  place.  The  man  persisted  in 
declaring  himself  happy  in  his  condition  and  in  his  wife. 
For  supper  the  husband  had  a  terrapin,  the  squaw  an 
opossum ;  and  we  had  biscuit  and  uncooked  mack- 
erel, which  we  carried  with  us.  This  taste  for  asso- 
ciation between  these  two  races  is  exemplified  in  this 
way  in  all  directions  up  the  Illinois,  the  Missouri,  the 
Mississippi,  and  especially  at  Prairie  du  Chien,  up  that 
river,  where  three  quarters  of  the  inhabitants  are  the 
mixed  descendants  of  this  union.  In  short,  wherc- 
ever  the  French  have  come  in  contact  with  the  sava- 
ges, these  unions  have  been  the  result. 

The  object  of  this  excursion  had  been  to  examine 
into  the  moral  condition  and  wants  of  the  new  settlers 
on  the  Illinois.  It  was  taken  in  the  month  of  August. 
I  had  suffered  much  from  heat,  bad  food,  and  expo- 
sure, and  had  breathed  the  air  of  the  Illinois,  charged  at 


132 


this  sultry  season  with  miasma.  The  week  after  my 
return,  I  was  taken  down  with  a  severe  bilious  fever. 
Emigrants  generally  suffer  some  kind  of  sickness, 
which  is  called  "  seasoning,"  implying  that  it  is  the 
summit  of  the  gradual  process  of  acclimation.  This 
sickness  commonly  attacks  them  the  first,  second,  or 
third  year,  and  is  generally  the  more  severe,  the  longer 
it  is  delayed.  This  came  in  my  third  year's  residence 
in  the  country.  I  am  aware  that  every  sufferer  in 
this  way,  is  apt  to  think  his  own  case  extraordinary. 
My  physicians  agreed  with  all  who  saw  me,  that  my 
case  was  so.  As  very  few  live  to  record  the  issue  of 
a  sickness  like  mine,  and  as  you  have  requested  me 
and  as  I  have  promised  to  be  particular,  I  will  relate 
some  of  the  circumstances  of  this  disease.  And  it  is, 
in  ny  view,  desirable  in  the  bitter  agony  of  such  dis- 
eases, that  more  of  the  symptoms,  sensations,  and  suf- 
ferings should  be  recorded  than  have  been,  that  others 
in  similar  predicaments,  may  know  that  some  before 
them  have  had  sufferings  like  theirs  and  have  survived 
them.  I  had  had  a  fever  before,  and  had  risen  and 
been  dressed  every  day.  But  in  this,  with  the  first 
day  I  was  prostrated  to  infantine  weakness,  and  felt 
with  its  first  attack,  that  it  was  a  thing  very  different 
from  what  I  had  yet  experienced.  Paroxysms  of  de- 
rangement occurred  the  third  day,  and  this  was  to  me 
a  new  state  of  mind.  That  state  of  disease  in  which 
partial  derangement  is  mixed  with  a  consciousness 
generally  sound,  and  a  sensibility  preternaturally  ex- 
cited, I  should  suppose  the  most  distressing  of  all  its 
forms.  At  the  same  time  that  I  was  unable  to  recog- 
nise my  friends,  I  am  informed  that  my  memory  was 
more  than  ordinarily  exact  and  retentive,  and  that  I 
repeated  whole  passages  in  the  different  languages 


133 


which  I  knew,  with  entire  accuracy.  I  recited,  with- 
out losing  or  misplacing  a  word,  a  passage  of  poetry, 
which  I  could  not  so  repeat,  after  I  had  recovered  my 
health.  Sometimes  imaginations  the  most  delightful, 
and  at  other  times  the  most  terrible,  took  possession  of 
of  my  mind.  But  at  that  hour  in  the  evening,  when 
my  family  had  been  used  to  sing  before  prayers,  I 
constantly  supposed  that  I  heard  two  flutes  playing 
harmonies  in  the  most  exquisite  and  delightful  airs. 
So  strong  was  this  impression,  that  it  was  difficult  to 
persuade  me,  on  the  recovery  of  sanity,  that  it  had  not 
been  so.  As  my  strength  sank,  and  as  the  painful 
process  of  blistering,  and  emetics,  and  other  distressing 
operations,  was  laid  aside  as  of  no  farther  use,  I  re- 
member well  that  every  person,  who  came  into  my 
room,  seemed  to  come  with  an  insufferable  glare  of 
light  about  his  head,  like  a  dazzling  glory,  and  that 
every  one  about  me  seemed  to  walk  in  the  air,  and  in 
eccentric  ellipses.  Then  there  were  continual  flashes 
from  my  own  eyes,  like  those  when  we  receive  the 
concussion  of  a  violent  blow  in  the  head.  When  the 
paroxysm  came  upon  me,  a  kind  of  awful  curiosity, 
not  unmixed  with  delight, — for  at  that  time  I  was 
not  afraid  to  die, — dwelt  on  my  mind  ;  a  straining  of 
its  powers  to  imagine  the  scenes,  that  would  burst  upon 
me,  when  I  should  shut  my  eyes  upon  time,  and  open 
them  in  the  light  of  eternity.  I  passed  the  greater 
part  of  two  days  in  such  extreme  weakness,  as  to  be 
unable  to  close  my  eyes,  and  yet  during  this  period 
when  I  was  supposed  unconscious,  I  was  possessed  of 
consciousness  in  such  a  degree  as  to  hear  and  to  know 
all  that  was  passing  about  me.  I  expected  every  mo- 
ment to  have  done  with  the  earth  ;  and  of  one  thing  I 
am  sure,  that  I  was  then  perfectly  willing  to  lay  down 


134 


the  "  worn  being,  full  of  pain."  A  feeling  not  unlike 
regret,  accompanied  my  first  impression  that  I  was 
returning  back  to  life.  Too  soon,  in  such  cases,  reso- 
lutions vanish.  Life  and  the  earth  regain  their  charm 
and  their  influence,  and  the  former  train  of  feelings 
returns. 

Every  one,  who  has  been  sick  in  this  way,  and  who 
from  the  extreme  of  emaciation  and  weakness,  has  re- 
covered a  renovated  existence,  has  probably  been  con- 
scious in  some  degree,  of  the  same  delightful  sensations 
of  convalescence  which  I  experienced.     In  that  state 
of  debility,  from  which  all  the  seeds  of  disease  and  all 
causes  of  irritation  have  been  removed,  there  is  some- 
thing in  the  tranquillity  and  repose,  which  exclude 
all  uneasiness  and  all  vexation, — not  unlike  the  se- 
renity and  satisfaction,  which  are  supposed  to  be  the 
portion  of  the  blessed.    I  remember  days  of  more  elas- 
tic feeling,  and  which  gave  rise  to  more  expressions  of 
happiness.     But  I  do  not  remember  to  have  experi- 
enced such  a  placid  and  contented  frame  for  such  a 
length  of  time.     I  attempted  to  analyze  my  feelings, 
and  I  flattered  myself,  that  the  consciousness  of  resto- 
ration from  the  grave,  and  returning  health,  did  not 
make  a  material  element  in  this  state  of  tranquil  en- 
joyment.   How  strongly  we  feel,  under  such  circum- 
stances, that  the  vexing  and  bad  passions  will  never 
regain  a  place  within  us!     The  remembrance  of  the 
manner  in  which  the  world  and  its  hopes  and  desires 
had  affected  me,  seemed  like  a  shadowy  dream.  I 
shall  not  forget,  until  memory  has  lost  her  seat,  the 
sensations  excited  by  the  first  view  of  the  earth,  the 
trees,  the  river,  and  the  heavens,  the  first  time  after 
this  illness  that  I  was  carried  out  to  ride.    Every  ob- 
ject had  a  new  aspect,  and  a  new  colouring,  and  I 


135 


beheld  the  beauty  of  nature,  as  if  for  the  first  time. 
I  had  been  confined  fifty-five  days,  and  with  the 
weakness  of  an  infant,  I  had  all  its  freedom  from  cares 
and  desires.  How  earnestly  did  I  wish  that  such  a 
state  of  abstraction  from  passions  and  cares,  and  such 
fresh  and  admiring  views  of  nature,  might  last  forever  ! 


LETTER  XV.— ST.  CHARLES. 

During  my  long  residence  in  the  Mississippi  valley, 
I  have  had  very  considerable  opportunities  of  becom- 
ing acquainted  with  the  various  savage  tribes  of  that 
region.  1  have  seen  them  in  every  point  of  view, 
when  hunting,  when  residing  in  iheir  cabins,  in  their 
permanent  stations.  I  have  seen  them  wild  and  unso- 
phisticated in  the  woods.  I  have  seen  them  in  their 
councils  and  deputations,  when  making  treaties  in  the 
considerable  towns.  I  have  seen  their  wisest,  bravest, 
and  most  considered  ;  and  I  have  seen  the  wretched 
families,  that  hang  round  the  large  towns,  to  trade  and 
to  beg,  intoxicated,  subdued,  filthy,  and  miserable,  the 
very  outcasts  of  nature.  I  have  seen  much  of  the 
Creeks  and  Cherokees,  whose  civilization  and  im- 
provement are  so  much  vaunted.  I  have  seen  the 
wretched  remains  of  the  tribes  on  the  lower  Missis- 
sippi, that  stroll  about  New  Orleans.  I  have  taken 
observation  at  Alexandria  and  Natchitoches  of  the  In- 
dians of  those  regions,  and  from  the  adjoining  country  of 
New  Spain.  I  have  resided  on  the  Arkansas,  and  have 
been  conversant  with  its  savages.  While  I  was  at  St. 
Charles,  savages  came  down  from  the  Rocky  Mount- 
ains, so  untamed,  so  unbroken  to  the  ways  of  the 


136 


whites,  that  they  were  said  never  to  have  eaten  bread 
until  on  that  trip.  While  I  was  at  St.  Louis  a  grand 
deputation  from  the  northern  points  of  the  Missouri, 
the  Mississippi,  and  the  lakes,  comprising  a  selection 
of  their  principal  warriors  and  chiefs,  to  the  number  of 
eighteen  hundred,  was  there  for  a  length  of  time. 
They  were  there  to  make  treaties,  and  settle  the  rela- 
tions, that  had  been  broken  during  the  war,  in  which 
most  of  them  had  taken  a  part  hostile  to  the  United 
States.  Thus  I  have  inspected  the  northern,  middle, 
and  southern  Indians,  for  a  length  of  ten  years ;  and  I 
mention  it  only  to  prove  that  my  opportunities  of  ob- 
servation have  been  considerable,  and  that  I  do  not 
undertake  to  form  a  judgment  of  their  character,  with- 
out at  least  having  seen  much  of  it. 

I  have  been  forcibly  struck  with  a  general  resem- 
blance in  their  countenance,  make,  conformation, 
manners,  and  habits.  I  believe  that  no  race  of  men 
can  show  people,  who  speak  different  languages,  in- 
habit different  climes,  and  subsist  on  different  food, 
and  who  are  yet  so  wonderfully  alike.  You  may 
easily  discover  striking  differences  in  their  stature, 
strength,  intellect,  acuteness,  and  consideration  among 
themselves.  But  a  savage  of  Canada,  and  of  the 
Rio  del  Norte,  has  substantially  the  same  face,  the 
same  form,  and  if  I  may  so  say,  the  same  instincts. 
They  are  all,  in  my  mind,  unquestionably  from  a  com- 
mon stock.  What  wonderful  dreams  they  must  have 
had,  who  supposed  that  any  of  these  races  were  deriv- 
ed from  the  Welch,  or  the  Jews.  Their  languages, 
now  that  they  are  more  attentively  examined,  are 
found  to  be  far  less  discordant  than  they  have  been 
generally  supposed.  In  the  construction  of  it,  in  the 
manner  of  forming  their  attributes,  their  verbs,  their 


137 


numerals,  especially,  there  is  a  great  and  striking  anal- 
ogy. Nor  will  it  explain  this  to  my  mind,  to  say  that 
their  wants  and  modes  of  existence  being  alike,  their 
ways  of  expressing  their  thoughts  must  be  also.  They 
have  a  language  of  signs,  that  is  common  to  all  from 
Canada  to  the  western  sea.  Governor  Clark  explained 
to  me  a  great  number  of  these  signs,  which  convey  ex- 
actly the  same  ideas  to  those  who  speak  different  lan- 
guages. But  in  fact,  with  the  command  of  four  dia- 
lects, I  believe  that  a  man  could  make  himself  under- 
stood by  the  savages  from  Maine  to  Mexico. 

They  have  not  the  same  acute  and  tender  sensibili- 
ties with  the  other  races  of  men.   4  particularly  com- 
pare them  with  a  race  with  which  I  have  often  seen 
them  intermixed, — the  negroes.    They  have  no  quick 
perceptions,  no  acute  feelings.    They  do  not  so  easily 
or  readily  sympathize  with  external  nature.  They 
seem  callous  to  every  passion  but  rage.     The  instan  - 
ces that  have  been  given  in  such  glowing  colours,  of 
their  females  having  felt  and  displayed  the  passion  of 
love  towards  individuals  of  the  whites,  with  such  ar- 
dour and  devoted  constancy,  have,  I  doubt  not,  exist- 
ed.   But  they  were  exceptions,  anomalies  from  the 
general  character.     In  ail  the  positions  in  which  I 
have  seen  them,  they  do  not  seem  susceptible  of  much 
affection  for  their  own  species  or  the  whites.  They 
are  apparently  a  melancholy,  sullen,  and  musing  race, 
who  appear  to  have  whatever  they  have  of  emotion  or 
excitement  on  ordinary  occasions,  going  on  in  the  in- 
ner man.    Every  one  has  remarked  how  little  surprize 
they  express,  for  whatever  is  new,  strange,  or  striking. 
Their  continual  converse  with  woods,  rocks,  and  ster- 
ile deserts,  with  the  roar  of  the  winds,  and  the  solitude 
and  gloom  of  the  wilderness,  their  alternations  of  sa- 
18 


138 


tiety  and  hunger,  their  continual  exposure  to  danger* 
their  uncertain  existence,  which  seems  to  them  a 
forced  and  unnatural  state,  the  little  hold  which  their 
affections  seem  to  have  upon  life,  the  wild  and  savage 
nature  that  always  surrounds  them, — these  circumstan- 
ces seem  to  have  impressed  a  steady  and  unalterable 
gloom  upon  their  countenance.  If  there  be  here  and 
there  a  young  man,  otherwise  born  to  distinction 
among  them,  who  feels  the  freshness  and  the  vivacity 
of  a  youthful  existence,  and  shows  any  thing  of  the 
gaiety  and  volatility  of  other  animals  in  such  circum- 
stances, he  is  denounced  as  a  trifling  thing,  destitute  of 
all  dignity  of  character,  and  the  sullen  and  silent 
young  savage  will  be  advanced  above  him.  They 
converse  very  little,  even  among  themselves.  They 
seem  to  possess  an  instinctive  determination  to  be 
wrholly  independent  even  of  their  own  savage  society. 
They  wish  to  have  as  few  relations  as  may  be,  with 
any  thing  external  to  themselves. 

Their  impassible  fortitude  and  endurance  of  suffer- 
ing, which  have  been  so  much  vaunted,  are  after  all,  in 
my  mind,  the  result  of  a  greater  degree  of  physical 
insensibility.  It  has  been  told  me,  with  how  much 
truth  1  know  not,  but  I  believe  it,  that  in  amputation, 
and  other  surgical  operations,  their  nerves  do  not 
shrink,  do  not  show  the  same  tendency  to  spasm,  with 
those  of  the  whites.  When  the  savage,  to  explain  his 
insensibility  to  cold,  called  upon  the  white  man  to 
recollect  how  little  his  own  face  was  affected  by  it,  in 
consequence  of  its  constant  exposure,  the  savage  add- 
ed, u  My  body  is  all  face."  This  increasing  insensi- 
bility, transmitted  from  generation  to  generation,  final- 
ly becomes  inwrought  with  the  whole  web  of  animal 
nature,  and  the  body  of  the  savage  seems  to  have  little 


139 


more  sensibility  than  the  hoof  of  horses.  Of  course 
no  ordinary  stimulus  excites  them  to  action.  None 
of  the  common  excitements,  endearments,  or  motives, 
operate  upon  them  at  all.  They  seem  to  hold  most  of 
the  things  that  move  us,  in  proud  disdain.  The  hor- 
rors of  their  dreadful  warfare,  the  infernal  rage  of  their 
battles,  the  demoniac  fury  of  gratified  revenge,  the 
alternations  of  hope  and  despair  in  their  gambling,  to 
which  they  are  addicted  far  beyond  the  whites,  the 
brutal  exhiliration  of  drunkenness, — these  are  their 
pleasurable  excitements.  These  are  the  things  that 
awaken  them  to  a  strong  and  pleasurable  conscious- 
ness of  existence.  When  these  excitements  arouse  the 
imprisoned  energies  of  their  long  and  sullen  medita- 
tions, it  is  like  iEolus  uncaging  the  whirlwinds.  The 
tomahawk  flies  with  unpitying  and  unsparing  fury. 
The  writhing  of  their  victims  inspires  a  horrible  joy. 
Nor  need  we  wonder  at  the  enmity  that  exists  between 
them  and  the  frontier  people,  when  we  know  how 
often  such  enemies  have  been  let  loose  upon  their 
women  and  children. 

I  have  often  contrasted  the  savages,  in  all  these  re- 
spects, with  the  negroes,  and  it  has  seemed  to  me  that 
they  were  the  two  extremes  of  human  nature  brought 
together.  The  negro  is  easily  excitable,  and  in  the 
highest  degree  susceptible  of  all  the  passions ;  he  is 
more  especially  so  of  the  mild  and  gentle  affections. 
To  the  Indian,  stern,  silent,  moody,  ruminating  ex- 
istence seems  a  burden.  To  the  negro,  remove 
only  pain  and  hunger,  it  is  naturally  a  state  of  enjoy- 
ment. As  soon  as  his  burdens  are  laid  down,  or  his 
toils  for  a  moment  suspended,  he  sings,  he  seizes  his 
fiddle,  he  dances.  When  their  days  are  passed  in 
continued  and  severe  toil,  their  nights, — for  like  cats 


140 


and  owls  they  arc  nocturnal  animals, — are  passed  in 
wandering  about  from  plantation  to  plantation,  in  vis- 
iting, feasting,  and  conversation. 

Every  year  the  negroes  have  two  or  three  holi- 
days, which  in  New  Orleans  and  the  vicinity,  are  like 
the  44  Saturnalia "  of  the  slaves  in  ancient  Rome. 
The  great  Congo-dance  is  performed.  Every  thing 
is  license  and  revelry.  Some  hundreds  of  negroes, 
male  and  female,  follow  the  king  of  the  wake,  who  is 
conspicuous  for  his  youth,  size,  the  whiteness  of  his 
eyes,  and  the  blackness  of  his  visage.  For  a  crown 
he  has  a  series  of  oblong,  gilt-paper  boxes  on  his 
head,  tapering  upwards,  like  a  pyramid.  From  the 
ends  of  these  boxes  hang  two  huge  tassels,  like  those 
on  epaulets.  He  wags  his  head  and  makes  grimaces. 
By  his  thousand  mountebank  tricks,  and  contortions 
of  countenance  and  form,  he  produces  an  irresistible 
elfect  upon  the  multitude.  All  the  characters  that  fol- 
low him,  of  leading  estimation,  have  their  own  peculiar 
dress,  and  their  own  contortions.  They  dance,  and 
their  streamers  fly,  and  the  bells  that  they  have  hung 
about  them  tinkle.  Never  will  you  see  gayer  counte- 
nances, demonstrations  of  more  forgetfulness  of  the 
past  and  the  future,  and  more  entire  abandonment  to 
the  joyous  existence  of  the  present  moment.  I  have 
seen  groups  of  these  moody  and  silent  sons  of  the  for- 
est, following  these  merry  bachanalians  in  their  dance, 
through  the  streets,  scarcely  relaxing  their  grim  visa- 
ges to  a  smiie,  in  the  view  of  antics  that  convulsed 
even  the  masters  of  the  negroes  with  laughter. 

I  once  witnessed  a  spectacle,  w  hich  I  am  told  the 
Indians  are  rather  shy  of  exhibiting  to  strangers,  not 
only  among  the  whites,  but  even  of  their  own  race. 
This  was  a  set  mourning  for  a  deceased  relative.  It 


141 


took  place  in  a  Chactaw  family,  on  the  north  side  of 
Lake  Ponchartrain.  About  two  months  before,  they 
had  appointed  this  day  for  doing  up  the  mourning  at 
once.  The  whole  group  consisted  of  nine  persons, 
male  and  female.  Only  four  men  enacted  the  mourn- 
ing. I  was  walking  near  the  place  in  company  with 
my  family.  Our  attention  was  arrested  by  the  pecul- 
iar posture  of  the  mourners,  and  by  a  monotonous  and 
most  melancholy  lament,  in  a  kind  of  tone  not  unlike 
the  howling  of  a  dog.  We  walked  up  to  the  mourn- 
ing, but  it  went  on  as  if  the  parties  were  unobservant 
of  our  presence.  Four  large  men  sat  opposite,  and 
with  their  heads  so  inclined  to  each  other  as  almost 
to  touch.  A  blanket  was  thrown  over  their  heads. 
Each  held  a  corner  of  it  in  his  hand.  In  this  position, 
one  that  appeared  to  lead  in  the  business,  would  begin 
the  dolorous  note,  which  the  rest  immediately  follow- 
ed in  a  prolonged  and  dismal  strain,  for  more  than  half 
a  minute.  It  then  sunk  away.  It  was  followed  by  a 
few  convulsive  sobs  or  snuffles,  only  giving  way  to 
the  same  dismal  howl  again.  This  was  said  to  be  a 
common  ceremony  in  like  cases,  and  this  was  a  pre- 
concerted duty,  which  they  had  met  at  this  time  and 
place  to  discharge.  The  performance  lasted  some- 
thing more  than  an  hour.  The  squaw  and  sisters  of 
the  person  deceased,  were  walking  about  with  uncon- 
cern, and  as  though  nothing  more  than  ordinary  was 
transacting.  To  be  able  to  judge  of  the  sincerity  with 
which  these  mourners  enacted  their  business,  to  satisfy 
myself  whether  they  were  in  earnest  or  in  jest,  I  sat 
down  close  by  them,  so  that  I  could  look  under  their 
blanket,  and  I  saw  the  tears  actually  streaming  down 
their  cheeks  in  good  earnest.  When  the  mourning 
was  over,  they  arose,  assumed  their  usual  countenance, 
and  went  about  their  ordinary  business. 


142 


It  appears  to  be  a  habit  with  them,  to  do  all  their 
manifestations  of  joy,  grief,  or  religion,  at  once,  at  a 
stated  time,  and  by  the  quantity.  Such  is  the  purport 
of  their  war-feasts  and  dances,  their  religious  ceremo- 
nial of  roasting  a  dog,  and,  in  some  places,  drinking 
what  is  called  the  66  black  drink,"  before  they  com- 
mence any  important  enterprize. 

A  few  days  after  my  first  arrival  at  St.  Louis,  there 
arrived,  as  I  have  remarked,  from  different  points  of 
the  upper  Mississippi,  Missouri,  and  the  lakes,  a  great 
number  of  the  principal  warriors  and  chiefs  of  the 
tribes  of  these  regions,  to  attend  a  grand  council  with 
commissioners  assembled  under  the  authority  of  the 
United  States,  to  make  treaties  of  peace  with  the 
tribes  that  had  been  hostile  to  us  during  the  war. 
Their  squaws  and  children  attended  them.  A  better 
opportunity  to  observe  the  distinctions  that  exist  be- 
tween the  different  and  very  distant  tribes  of  those 
regions,  seldom  occurs.  I  remarked  their  different 
modes  of  constructing  their  water-craft.  Those  from 
the  lakes,  and  the  high  points  of  the  Mississippi,  had 
beautiful  canoes,  or  rather  large  skiffs,  of  white  birch 
bark.  Those  from  the  lower  Mississippi,  and  from 
the  Missouri,  had  pirogues,  or  canoes  hollowed  out  of 
a  large  tree.  Some  tribes  covered  their  tents  with 
bear-skins.  Those  from  far  up  the  Mississippi,  had 
beautiful  cone-shaped  tents,  made  very  neatly  with 
rush  matting.  Those  from  the  upper  regions  of  the 
Missouri,  had  their  tents  of  tanned  buffalo  robes, 
marked  on  the  inside  with  scarlet  lines,  and  they  were 
of  an  elliptical  form.  In  some  instances,  we  saw 
marks  of  savage  progress  in  refinement  and  taste,  in 
covering  the  earth  under  their  tents  with  rush  or  skin 
carpeting.    They  were  generally  dirty,  rude,  and  dis- 


143 

posed  to  intoxication.  When  ladies  of  respectable 
dress  and  appearance  came  to  see  them,  as  often  hap- 
pened, for  they  were  encamped  just  out  of  the  limits 
of  the  town,  they  were  particular  in  the  manifestation 
of  marks  of  savage  rudeness  and  indecency.  They 
were  well  aware  of  the  effect  of  such  conduct,  and 
when  the  ladies  fled  in  confusion,  they  were  sure  to 
raise  a  brutal  laugh.  We  saw  many  small  animals 
roasting  on  the  points  of  sticks,  after  the  Indian  fash- 
ion, which  we  at  first  took  to  be  pigs,  but  which  we 
afterwards  ascertained  to  be  dogs,  and  that  they  had 
brought  many  with  them  for  this  purpose.  The  tribes 
from  the  upper  Mississippi  and  the  lakes,  that  is,  from 
the  vicinity  of  the  British  settlements,  gambled  with 
our  playing  cards.  They  put  their  ratious,  their  skins, 
their  rifles,  their  dogs,  and  sometimes,  we  were  told, 
their  squaws,  at  stake  on  the  issue  of  these  games. 
The  Missouri  Indians  gambled  with  a  circular  parch- 
ment box,  having  a  bottom,  and  shaped  like  a  small 
drum.  From  this  they  cast  up  a  number  of  small 
shells  or  pebbles,  waving  the  palms  of  their  hands 
horizontally  between  the  falling  pebbles  and  the  box, 
at  the  same  time  blowing  on  the  failing  pebbles  with 
their  mouth. 

Gambling,  as  we  have  remarked,  is  one  of  the  few 
excitements  sufficient  to  make  them  sensible  of  exist- 
ence. It  is  a  passion,  to  which  with  the  characteristic 
insanity  of  civilized  gamblers,  they  will  sacrifice  for- 
tune, the  means  of  subsistence,  their  wives  and  chil- 
dren, and  even  life.  They  often  commit  suicide  in 
despair,  after  they  have  gambled  away  every  thing  but 
life. 

I  used  at  evening  often  to  spend  an  hour  or  two  in 
walking  among  their  tents,  as  they  were  encamped  on 


144 


the  margin  of  the  Mississippi.  They  were  the  repre- 
sentatives of  a  great  many  tribes,  and  they  were  the 
select  men,  that  is  the  warriors,  and  council-chiefs  of 
their  tribes.  None  others  are  deputed  on  occasions 
like  these.  The  same  moody,  unjoyous,  and  rumin- 
ating aspect,  which  I  have  constantly  since  seen  all 
classes  wear,  marked  them.  To  the  few  who  could 
speak  or  understand  English,  I  endeavoured  to  speak 
on  the  subject  of  religion.  I  have  surely  had  it  in  my 
heart  to  impress  them  with  the  importance  of  the  sub- 
ject. I  have  scarcely  noted  an  instance  in  which  the 
subject  was  not  received  either  with  indifference,  rude- 
ness, or  jesting.  Of  all  races  of  men  that  I  have  seen, 
they  seem  to  me  most  incapable  of  religious  impres- 
sions. They  have,  indeed,  some  notions  of  an  invisible 
agent.  But  they  seemed  generally  to  think,  that  the 
Indians  had  their  God,  as  the  whites  had  theirs. 

There  can  be  no  question  about  the  benevolence  of 
the  efforts  that  have  been  made  to  christianize  them. 
Full  gladly  would  I  welcome  all  the  hopes  that  have 
been  entertained  upon  this  point.  Gladly  would  I  be- 
lieve, that  this  wretched  race  would  receive  the  gospel, 
and  become  happier  and  better.  There  can  be  but 
one  opinion,  what  would  be  the  result  of  their  imbibing 
the  genuine  spirit  of  the  gospel.  Nothing  will  event- 
ually be  gained  to  the  great  cause  by  colouring  and 
misstatement.  However  reluctant  we  may  be  to 
receive  it,  the  real  state  of  things  will  eventually 
be  known  to  us.  We  have  heard  of  the  imperisha- 
ble labours  of  an  Eliot  and  a  Brainerd  in  other  days. 
But  in  these  times  it  is  a  melancholy  truth,  that 
Protestant  exertions  to  christianize  them,  have  not 
been  in  these  regions  marked  with  apparent  success. 
The  Catholics  have  caused  many  to  hang  a  crucifix 


145 

around  their  necks,  which  they  show  as  they  show  their 
medals  and  other  ornaments,  and  this  too  often  is  all 
that  they  have  to  mark  them  as  christians.  We  have 
read  narratives  of  the  Catholics,  which  detailed  the 
most  glowing  and  animating  views  of  their  successes. 
I  have  had  accounts,  however,  from  travellers  in  these 
regions,  that  have  been  over  the  Stony  Mountains  into 
the  great  missionary  settlements  of  St.  Peter  and  St. 
Paul.  These  travellers, — and  some  of  them  were  pro- 
fessed Catholics, — unite  in  affirming,  that  the  converts 
will  escape  from  the  mission  whenever  it  is  in  their 
power,  fly  into  their  native  deserts,  and  resume  at 
once  their  old  modes  of  life.  The  vast  empire  of  the 
Jesuits  in  Paraguay  has  all  passed  away,  and,  we  are 
told,  the  descendants  of  the  converted  Indians  are  no 
way  distinguished  from  the  other  savages.  It  strikes 
me  that  Christianity  is  the  religion  of  civilized  man, 
that  the  savages  must  first  be  civilized,  and  that  as 
there  is  little  hope  that  the  present  generation  of  In- 
dians can  be  civilized,  there  is  but  little  more  that  they 
will  be  christianized. 

I  have  often  been  called  to  witness  the  sneering 
manner,  with  which  the  leading  men  in  the  western 
and  southern  country,  who  see  what  has  actually  been 
done,  contemplate  the  missionary  efforts  that  have 
been  made  among  the  Indians.  One  thing  must  be 
conceded  to  these  efforts,  that  the  same  rules  of  reason- 
ing and  philosophizing  have  finally  been  applied  to  this 
subject,  which  have  been  so  successful  in  the  investi- 
gation of  all  others.  Theory,  however  plausible  and 
benevolent,  has  given  place  to  observation  and  experi- 
ence, of  what  has  been  the  fruit  and  result  of  these  ex- 
ertions. If  anything  can  be  gathered  from  the  past  to 
guide  the  future,  it  is  that  there  can  be  little  hope  of 

19 


146 


any  radical  change,  except  among  the  children,  whose 
inclinations  and  habits  are  yet  to  form.  The  Protest- 
ant efforts  that  are  now  making,  are  of  this  class  ;  and 
they  are  made  on  reasonable  grounds,  of  calculation, 
and  promise  more  than  any  that  have  yet  been  at- 
tempted. Those  benevolent  men,  who  have  com- 
menced missionary  schools  among  the  Indians,  deserve 
well  of  their  country  and  of  man.  When  the  children 
are  civilized,  and  instructed  in  the  usages  and  arts  of 
civilized  life,  and  accustomed  to  find  its  security  and 
comfort  necessary  to  their  enjoyment,  and  to  find 
Christianity  to  be  a  grand  point  in  that  civilization, 
among  such,  we  may  hope  that  the  gospel  will  find  its 
element.  Surely  if  any  men  merit  earnest  wishes  and 
prayers  for  their  success,  it  must  be  those  men,  who 
have  left  the  precincts  of  every  thing  that  is  desirable 
in  life,  to  go  into  these  solitudes,  and  take  in  hand 
these  unformed  children  of  nature.  It  is  upon  the 
children  and  the  coming  generation,  that  the  lever  of 
our  efforts  of  this  kind  among  the  Indians  ought  to 
turn,  as  its  pivot. 

Certainly  the  time  will  come,  when  a  more  dis- 
criminating and  severe  scrutiny  will  be  applied  to  this 
subject,  than  has  yet  been  ;  when  benevolent  wishes, 
and  the  sanguine  hopes  of  young  and  ardent  men,  will 
not  be  the  data  on  which  to  plan  and  execute  schemes 
of  this  sort.  The  principles  on  which  to  calculate 
those  exertions,  will  finally  be  adjusted  by  the  improv- 
ed philosophy  of  the  age.  The  wisdom  and  expedi- 
ency of  missionary  efforts  must  be  tested,  not  by 
theory,  but  experience, — by  careful  scrutiny  of  what 
has  been  the  actual  result  of  these  great  labours  of  love. 
Money,  missionary  efforts,  and  preachers  are  wanting, 
far  more  than  can  be  spared,  in  fields  where  the  results 


147 


of  cultivation  have  been  measured.  The  settled  re- 
gions of  our  own  country,  that  are  destitute  of  the 
gospel,  are  more  ample  than  all  our  sacrifices  and  ex- 
ertions in  this  way  can  occupy.  Certainly  there  ought 
to  be  a  serious  and  anxious  inquiry,  where  the  avails  of 
the  bank  of  christian  charity  can  be  applied  with  the 
best  hope  of  success.  These  plans  have  too  often 
been  formed,  and  these  avails  appropriated,  on  state- 
ments, or  rather  misstatements,  of  successes,  which 
never  had  any  existence,  except  in  the  ardent  imagina- 
tions of  those  that  made  them. 

In  respect  to  christianizing  the  savages,  the  leading 
men  of  the  southern  country  say,  in  a  tone  between 
jest  and  earnest,  that  we  can  never  expect  to  do  it 
without  crossing  the  breed.  In  effect,  wherever  there 
are  half-breeds,  as  they  are  called,  there  is  generally 
a  faction,  a  party  ;  and  this  race  finds  it  convenient  to 
espouse  the  interests  of  civilization  and  Christianity. 
The  full-blooded  chiefs  and  Indians  are  generally  par- 
tisans for  the  customs  of  the  old  time,  and  for  the  an- 
cient religion. 

When  the  Cherokees  left  their  old  country  east  of 
the  Mississippi,  and  went  to  the  upper  regions  of  the 
Arkansas,  I  saw  the  emigrating  portion  of  the  nation. 
They  came  in  two  or  three  divisions,  and  might 
amount  in  all  to  eight  hundred  or  a  thousand.  1  was 
formally  introduced  to  the  leading  full-blooded  chief, 
Richard  Justice.  He  told  me  by  the  interpreter,  that 
he  had  a  number  of  wives,  by  whom  he  had  more  than 
thirty  children.  He  wore  the  same  inflexible,  melan- 
choly countenance,  which  has  struck  me  as  so  charac- 
teristic of  the  race.  He  had  a  meagre,  but  very  large 
and  brawny  frame,  was  in  appearance  between  eighty 
and  ninety  years  of  age,  and  wore  a  great  number  of 


148 


the  common  Indian  insignia,  and  particularly  huge 
pendants  in  his  ears.  When  asked  in  what  light  he 
regarded  schools,  and  those  missionary  efforts  that 
were  then  contemplated  to  be  commenced  in  the  coun- 
try to  which  he  was  moving,  he  replied,  that  for  the 
true  Indians  the  old  ways  were  the  best;  that  his 
people  were  getting  to  be  neither  white  men  nor  In- 
dians ;  that  he  conceived  that  his  nation  had  offended 
their  gods  by  deserting  their  old  worship  ;  and  that  he, 
for  his  part,  wished  that  his  people  should  be  always 
Cherokees,  or,  as  he  called  it,  Chelokees,  and  nothing 
else.  Rogers,  on  the  contrary,  a  young,  aspiring,  and 
factious  half  blood  chief,  expressed  himself  warmly  in 
favour  of  schools  and  missionaries.  He  made  munifi- 
cent promises  of  what  he  was  willing  to  do  in  aid  of 
such  exertions.  His  wife,  who  was  an  intelligent  and 
well-informed  half-blood  woman,  with  fine  eyes,  and  a 
countenance  not  unlike  the  white  women  of  the  south- 
ern country,  remarked  to  me,  after  her  husband  had 
retired,  that  she  wished,  indeed,  that  missionaries 
might  come  among  her  people  and  benefit  her  hus- 
band. She  concluded,  she  added,  that  when  people 
became  christians  they  ceased  to  get  drunk  ;  that  her 
husband,  when  sober,  was  an  amiable  and  a  good  hus- 
band, but  that  when  drunk  he  was  terrible,  and  not  at 
all  to  be  trusted.  She  went  on  to  remark,  that  reli- 
gious people  ought  to  receive  with  some  distrust  his 
promises  of  support  to  the  missionaries,  for  that  such 
language,  and  such  promises,  had  become  now  the 
watchword  of  a  party ;  that  she  feared  much,  that  his 
pretended  regard  for  religion  was  not  the  result  of  in- 
ward conviction. 

Many  of  these  people  had  a  number  of  slaves,  fine 
horses,  waggons  and  ploughs,  and  implements  of  hus- 


149 


bandry  and  domestic  manufacture.  They  were  gen- 
erally very  stout  men,  and  had  in  their  countenance 
much  haughtiness,  and  looked,  as  it  seemed  to  me, 
with  ineffable  disdain  upon  the  boatmen  and  labourers 
of  our  people,  holding  themselves  to  be  a  people  of  a 
much  higher  class.  "  Black  Thunder,"  one  of  their 
chiefs,  was  aptly  denominated,  being  one  oi  the  largest 
men  that  1  had  ever  seen,  as  well  as  the  most  fierce 
and  formidable  in  his  countenance  and  form.  A  wag- 
gish and  skipping  young  man  among  them  was  called 
"  The  Squirrel."  A  young  woman,  not  only  a  full- 
blooded  American,  but  rather  fair  and  pretty,  was  wife 
to  one  of  the  young  warriors.  She  pretended  or  felt 
a  wish  to  escape  from  them,  and  made  proposals  to  me 
to  allow  her  to  secrete  herself  in  my  family.  Some 
efforts  were  made  by  the  people  of  the  village  to  carry 
her  pretended  wishes  into  effect.  But  the  savages, 
whether  they  had  been  informed  by  herself  that  the 
people  wished  to  retain  her,  or  whether  they  were  ac- 
tually fearful  of  her  escape,  watched  her  with  the 
most  guarded  jealousy.  We  saw  her  the  next  day 
in  the  midst  of  the  savages,  and  it  was  evident  from 
her  movements,  that  she  felt  a  coquettish  pride  in 
showing  the  high  estimation  she  had  among  them, 
and  how  carefully  she  was  watched. 

I  saw  at  Jackson,  in  Missouri,  another  emigration, 
of  the  Shawannoes  and  Delavvares  to  the  country  as- 
signed them  at  the  sources  of  White  River.  It  was  a 
scene  like  that  of  the  moving  Cherokees,  except  that 
they  seemed  a  poorer  and  more  degraded  race,  and 
their  women  more  immodest  and  abandoned,  i  had 
passed  through  the  villages  of  these  people,  when  they 
inhabited  them.  And  no  place  is  more  full  of  life  and 
motion  than  an  Indian  village.    At  the  upper  end  of 


150 


the  villages,  under  the  shade  of  the  peach-trees,  sat 
the  aged  chiefs  on  their  benches,  dozing,  their  eyes 
half  closed,  with  their  ruminating  and  thoughtful  sul- 
lenness  depicted  on  their  countenances  The  middle 
and  lower  end  of  the  villages  were  all  bustle  and  life ; 
the  young  warriors  fixing  their  rifles,  the  women  car- 
rying water,  and  the  children  playing  at  ball.  I 
passed  through  the  same  villages,  when  every  house 
was  deserted.  The  deer  browsed  upon  their  fields, 
and  the  red-bird  perched  upon  their  shrubs  and  fruit- 
trees.  The  mellow  song  of  the  bird,  and  the  desolate 
contrast  of  what  I  had  seen  but  a  few  months  before, 
formed  a  scene  calculated  to  awaken  in  my  mind 
melancholy  emotions. 

Whatever  may  be  the  estimate  of  the  Indian  charac- 
ter in  other  respects,  it  is  with  me  an  undoubting  con- 
viction, that  they  are  by  nature  a  shrewd  and  intelli- 
gent race  of  men,  in  no  respects,  as  it  regards  combina- 
tion of  thought  or  quickness  of  apprehension,  inferior 
to  uneducated  white  men.  This  inference  I  deduce 
from  having  instructed  Indian  children.  I  draw  it  from 
having  seen  the  men  and  women  in  all  situations  cal- 
culated to  try  and  call  forth  their  capacities.  When 
they  examine  any  of  our  inventions,  steam-boats, 
steam-mills,  and  cotton-factories,  for  instance, — when 
they  contemplate  any  of  our  institutions  in  operation, — 
by  some  quick  analysis,  or  process  of  reasoning,  they 
seem  immediately  to  comprehend  the  principle  and  the 
object.  No  spectacle  affords  them  more  delight  than 
a  large  and  orderly  school.  They  seem  instinctively 
to  comprehend,  at  least  they  explained  to  me  that  they 
felt  the  advantages  which  this  order  of  things  gave  our 
children  over  theirs. 


151 


When  a  tribe  from  the  remotest  regions  arrives  at 
one  of  the  towns,  it  is  obvious  how  immediately  and, 
it  would  seem,  from  the  first  glanee,  they  select  from 
the  crowds,  which  are  drawn  about  them  by  curiosi- 
ty, those  that  have  weight  and  consideration  among 
the  crowd  ;  how  readily  they  fix  upon  the  fathers,  as 
they  call  them,  in  distinction  from  all  pretenders  to 
weight  and  influence  among  the  people.  I  will  record 
an  instance  of  this  kind,  from  many  that  I  have  seen, 
one  that  struck  me  most  forcibly  with  the  conviction 
of  their  quickness  of  discernment  in  these  respects. 
Manuel  Lisa,  the  great  Spanish  fur  dealer  on  the  Mis- 
souri, brought  down  a  deputation  of  Indians  from  the 
Rocky  Mountains  to  St.  Louis.  These  savages,  we 
were  assured,  had  been  so  remote  from  white  people 
and  their  ways,  as  never  to  have  tasted  the  bread  of  the 
whites  before  this  trip.  They  had  the  appearance  of 
being  more  unsophisticated  and  panther-like,  than  any 
savages  I  had  seen.  They  landed  at  St.  Charles  from 
the  barges,  that  brought  them  down.  A  crowd,  as 
usual,  gathered  about  the  landing.  In  that  crowd  was 
a  trifling  man,  recently  from  New  England,  a  man  of 
that  class,  of  which  Dr.  Dwight  speaks  with  such  de- 
served contempt, — a  man  oppressed  with  the  burden  of 
his  fancied  talents  and  knowledge,  and  who  had  come 
to  this  dark  country,  not  to  put  his  light  under  a  bush- 
el, but  to  let  it  shine,  that  men  might  see  it.  This 
sight  was  to  him  a  novel  and  imposing  spectacle. 
Among  the  people  on  the  bank  were  men  of  the  first 
standing  in  the  country.  It  is  customary  for  such  to 
commence  the  ceremony  of  shaking  hands  with  the  sav- 
ages. This  man  wished  to  introduce  himself  to  the 
notice  of  the  people  by  anticipating  them  in  this  thing. 
He  walked  on  board  their  boats,  and  went  round  offer- 


152 


ing  them  his  hand.  A  sneer  was  visible  in  their  coun- 
tenances, while  they  gave  him  a  kind  of  awkward  and 
reluctant  shake  of  the  hand.  When  he  was  past,  they 
laughed  among  themselves,  and  remarked,  as  the  inter- 
preter told  us,  that  this  was  a  little  man,  and  no  father. 
They  then  came  on  shore  themselves,  went  round, 
and  with  an  eager  and  respectful  manner,  and  cer- 
tainly without  any  prompting,  began  to  shake  hands 
with  the  fathers  in  their  estimated  order  of  their 
standing.  It  was  remarked  at  the  time,  that  we,  who 
knew  the  standing  of  these  men,  could  not  have  select- 
ed with  more  justice  and  discrimination. 

At  the  grand  council  at  St.  Louis,  of  which  I  have 
spoken,  where  all  the  American  commissioners  were 
present,  and  a  vast  concourse  of  Indians  and  Ameri- 
cans,— that  portion  of  the  Sacs  that  had  been  hostile 
to  us  during  the  war,  was  engaged  in  the  debates  of 
the  council.  Some  noble-looking  chiefs  spoke  on  the 
occasion.  They  fully  exemplified  all  that  I  had  ever 
heard  of  energy,  gracefulness,  and  dignity  of  action 
and  manner.  The  blanket  was  thrown  round  the 
body  in  graceful  folds.  The  right  arm,  muscular 
brawny,  was  bare  quite  to  the  shoulder.  And  the 
movement  of  the  arm,  and  the  inclinations  of  the  body, 
might  have  afforded  a  study  to  a  youthful  orator.  I 
observed  a  peculiarity  of  their  posture,  which  I  have 
not  seen  elsewhere  noticed.  When  they  closed  an 
earnest  and  emphatic  sentence,  they  regularly  raised 
the  w7eight  of  the  body  from  the  heel,  to  poise  it  on 
the  toes  and  the  fore  part  of  the  foot.  The  rest  look- 
ed on  the  speaker  eagerly,  and  with  intense  interest. 
When  he  uttered  a  sentence  of  strong  meaning,  or  in- 
volving some  interesting  point  to  be  gamed,  they 
eheered  him  with  a  deep  grunt,  of  acquiescence. 


153 


A  favourite  chief,  of  singular  mildness  of  counte- 
nance and  manner,  had  spoken  two  or  three  times,  in 
a  very  insinuating  style.  He  was  in  fact  the  "  Master 
Plausible  99  of  his  tribe.  I  remarked  to  the  governor, 
that  he  was  the  only  Indian  I  had  ever  seen,  who  ap- 
peared to  have  mildness  and  mercy  in  his  countenance. 
He  replied,  that  under  this  mild  and  insinuating  exte- 
rior, were  concealed  uncommon  degrees  of  cunning, 
courage,  revenge,  and  cruelty  ;  that  in  fact  he  had  been 
the  most  bloody  and  troublesome  partisan  against  us, 
during  the  war,  of  the  whole  tribe.  The  grand  speech 
of  this  man,  as  translated,  was  no  mean  attempt  to 
apply  to  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  present,  the  delight* 
ful  unction  of  flattery. 

Some  report  had  got  in  circulation  among  them, 
which  inspired  them  with  arrogant  expectations  of  ob- 
taining permission  to  retain  the  British  traders  among 
them,  for  whom,  it  seems,  they  had  contracted  a  great 
fondness.  The  governor  replied  with  great  firmness, 
that  these  expectations  were  wholly  inadmissible. 
His  answer  was  received  with  a  general  grunt  of  an- 
ger. A  speaker  of  very  different  aspect  from  the 
former  arose,  and  with  high  dudgeon  in  his  counte- 
nance, observed,  that  he  had  understood  that  the  thing 
which  they  wished,  had  been  promised ;  but  that 
"  the  American  people  had  two  tongues."  Mr. 
Clarke,  who  perfectly  understood  the  import  of  their 
figures,  explained  the  remark  to  mean,  that  we  were 
a  perfidious  aud  double-tongued  people.  Justly  indig- 
nant to  be  addressed  by  a  principal  chief  in  this  way, 
and  to  notice  that  the  remark  was  cheered  by  the 
grunt  of  acquiescence  on  the  part  of  the  tribe,  he 
broke  off  the  council  with  visible  displeasure.  In 
the  afternoon  of  that  day,  a  detachment  of  United 
20 


154 


States  artillery  arrived  on  the  shore  of  the  river,  oppo- 
site the  Indian  camp.  This  detachment  was  ordered 
to  the  Sac  country.  The  men  paraded  and  fired  their 
pieces.  The  terror  of  the  savages  at  artillery  is  well 
known.  The  courage  of  these  fierce  men  was  awed 
at  once  in  the  prospect  of  this  imposing  force,  which 
they  had  understood  was  hound  to  their  country. 
The  next  morning  the  Sac  chiefs,  rather  submissively, 
requested  the  renewal  of  the  conference  which  had  been 
broken  off.  We  all  attended  the  council  to  hear  hovr 
they  would  apologize  for  their  insolence  the  day  before. 
The  same  chief  who  hail  used  the  offensive  language* 
came  forward  and  observed  that  the  father  had  mis- 
understood the  meaning  of  the  poor  ignorant  Indians ; 
that  he  had  intended  only  to  say,  that  he  had  always 
understood  from  his  fathers,  that  the  Americans  used 
two  languages,  viz.  French  and  English  ;  and  that 
they  had  two  ways  to  express  all  that  they  had  to  say 
to  the  Indians.  To  me,  it  seemed  that  a  man  of  hon- 
our, retreating  from  a  duel,  could  not  more  ingeniously 
have  explained  away  an  offensive  expression. 

I  coukl  easily  enter  into  details  of  this  sort,  and  cite 
numerous  examples,  which  seemed  to  me  to  indicate 
quick  apprehension  and  strong  intellect.  I  conversed 
often  with  a  tall  and  noble-looking  Sioux  Indian, 
very  finely  dressed  and  painted,  who  had  a  more  than 
ordinary  portion  of  Indian  ornaments  about  his  per- 
son, lie  had  great  numbers  of  little  bells  about  his 
legs  and  ancles,  which  tinkled  as  he  walked  along. 
These  are  things  of  which  Indians  are  not  a  little 
proud.  To  crown  all,  he  had  a  long  and  flourishing 
tail  of  some  wild  animal,  precisely  from  the  point 
where  Lord  Monbocldo  supposes  that  our  forefathers 
used  to  have  an  actual  tail  appended  to  the  body. 


155 


From  his  fantastic  tail,  his  fine  dress,  and  majestic 
strut,  he  used  to  he  designated  by  some  of  the  wits, 
from  Cowper's  famous  heroic  verse,  44  Devil,  yard- long 
tailM."  This  Indian  dandy  spoke  good  English, 
and  unlike  his  tribe  among  civilized  men,  had  great 
acuteness  and  a  vigorous  intellect.  From  him  I  ob- 
tained much  information  concerning  his  own  nation 
and  the  neighbouring  tribes.  He  gave  me  a  very  in- 
teresting biography  of  the  famous  Indian  chief,  "  White 
Hair  "  This  chief  came  from  the  remotest  point  of 
the  Osage  to  St.  Louis.  He  was  supposed  to  have  de- 
rived his  appellation  of  White  Flair,  from  a  grey  wig, 
or  scratch,  which  he  had  taken  from  the  head  of  an 
American  at  the  disastrous  defeat  of  General  St.  Clair. 
He  had  grasped  at  the  wig's  tail  in  the  mel'e  ot  the 
battle,  supposing  it  the  man's  hair,  and  that  he  should 
have  him  by  that  hold.  The  owner  fled,  and  the 
scratch  to  his  astonishment  remained  in  his  hand.  It 
instantly  became  in  his  mind  a  charmed  thing,  a  grand 
medicine.  Supposing  that  in  a  like  case  it  would 
always  effect  a  like  deliverance,  he  afterwards  wore 
it,  as  a  charmed  thing,  rudely  fastened  to  his  own 
scalp.  Napoleon  himself  did  not  discover  more 
greediness  for  fame,  nor  the  iirward  heavings  of  a 
more  burning  ambition,  than  this  untrained  son  of  the 
forest.  Said  he,  at  the  tables  where  he  dined  in  St. 
Louis,  "  I  felt  a  fire  within  me,  and  it  drove  me  to  the 
fight  of  St.  Clair.  When  his  army  was  scattered,  I 
returned  on  my  steps  to  my  country.  But  the  fire 
still  burned,  and  I  went  over  the  mountains  to  the 
western  sea.  I  gained  glory  there.  The  fire  still 
burns,  but  I  must  return  and  die  in  obscurity,  among 
the  forests  of  the  Osage. " 


156 


LETTER  XVI.— ST.  CHARLES. 

Gun  government  can  be  contemplated  in  no  point 
of  view,  more  calculated  to  inspire  affection  and  re- 
spect to  it,  than  in  the  steady  dignity?  moderation, 
benevolence,  and  untiring  forbearance,  which  it  has 
constantly  exercised  towards  the  Indians.  I  have 
had  great  opportunities  to  see  the  strictness  of  its 
provisions  to  prevent  the  sale  of  whiskey  among 
them,  and  to  see  the  generous  exertions  which  it  has 
made  to  preserve  them  from  destroying  themselves, 
and  from  killing  each  other.  It  appears  to  have 
been  the  guiding  maxim  of  the  government,  to  ward 
off  all  evil,  and  to  do  all  practicable  good  to  this  un- 
happy and  declining  race  of  beings.  It  seems  to  have 
been,  too,  an  effort  of  disinterested,  benevolence. 
Had  it  been  the  policy  of  the  government,  as  has 
been  charged  against  it,  to  exterminate  the  race,  it 
would  only  be  necessary  to  use  but  a  small  part  of  the 
ample  means  in  its  power,  to  let  them  loose,  the  one 
tribe  upon  the  other,  and  they  would  mutually  accom- 
plish the  work  of  self-destruction.  Nothing  farther 
would  be  needed,  than  to  unkennel  them,  excite  their 
jealousies,  and  stir  up  their  revenge.  We  have 
heard  and  read  the  benevolent  harangues  upon  the 
guilt  of  having  destroyed  the  past  races  of  this  peo- 
ple, and  of  having  possessed  ourselves  of  their  lands. 
Continual  war  is  the  natural  instinct  of  this  race.  It 
was  equally  so  when  white  men  first  trod  the  Ameri- 
can forest.  It  is  not  less  so  now,  that  the  government 
exercises  a  benevolent  restraint,  and  keeps  them  from 
killing  each  other.    We  firmly  believe,  that  all  ideas 


157 


of  property  in  the  lands  over  which  they  roamed  after 
game,  or  skulked  in  ambush  to  kill  one  another,  all 
notions  of  a  local  habitation,  have  been  furnished 
them  by  the  Americans.  When  they  were  in  one 
place  to  day,  defending  themselves  against  a  tribe  at 
the  east,  and  ready  to  march  tomorrow  to  dispossess 
another  at  the  west,  and  they  in  their  turn  to  dispos- 
sess another  tribe  still  beyond  them,  it  never  occur- 
red to  them  to  consider  the  land  over  which  they 
marched  for  war  or  for  game,  as  their  own  in  perma- 
nent property,  until  they  were  taught  its  value  by 
the  idea  which  the  whites  attached  to  it.  No  fact  is 
more  unquestionable,  than  that  ages  before  the  whites 
visited  these  shores,  they  were  divided  into  a  thou- 
sand petty  tribes,  engaged, — as  but  for  our  govern- 
ment they  would  be  now, — in  endless  and  exterminat- 
ing wars,  in  which  they  dashed  the  babe  into  the 
flames,  and  drank  the  warm  blood  of  their  victim,  or 
danced  and  yelled  around  the  stake  where  he  was  con- 
suming in  the  fire.  The  process  of  their  depopulation 
had  been,  in  all  probability,  going  on  as  rapidly  before 
the  discovery  of  the  country  by  the  whites,  as  since. 
I  shall  elsewhere  speak  of  the  manifest  proofs  of  an 
immensely  greater  population  in  these  regions  than 
now  exists.  Did  this  race  exterminate  that,  of  which 
the  only  remaining  trace  is  the  numberless  mounds, 
filled  with  human  bones,  which  rise  in  the  lonely 
prairies  of  the  west?  Certain  it  is,  that  war  is  the 
instinctive  appetite  of  the  present  race,  and  that  a 
state  of  peace  is  a  forced  and  unnatural  state. 

I  am  perfectly  aware,  that  these  are  not  the  views, 
which  have  been  fashionable  of  late,  in  discussing  this 
subject.  You  will  do  me  the  justice  to  believe,  that  I 
have  aimed  at  but  one  thing, — to  describe  things  just 


158 


as  they  are;  or  at  least,  as  they  appeared  to  me. 
Truth,  simple,  undisguised  truth  is  my  object ;  and  up- 
on this,  as  upon  all  other  subjects,  it  will  ultimately 
prevail.  Perhaps  it  may  be  said,  that  it  is  not  in  the 
vicinity  of  Fort  Mims,  or  among  the  frontier  people, 
that  the  most  flattering  views  of  the  savages  are  to  be 
obtained.  I  grant  it ;  but  I  think  that  in  the  history 
of  the  ancient  Canadian  wars,  and  in  the  regions 
where  I  have  so  long  sojourned,  are  ;o  be  found  the 
most  just,  if  not  the  most  flattering  views  of  this  peo- 
ple. They  are  not  the  less  to  be  pitied,  because  they 
are  a  cruel  people  by  nature.  They  are  not  less  to  be 
the  objects  of  our  best  wishes  and  our  prayers,  because 
they  have  no  sympathy  with  suffering.  From  my  in- 
most soul  I  wrish  them  to  become  the  followers  of  Je- 
sus Christ.  I  venerate  the  men  who  will  venture  on 
the  hard  and  unpromising  task  of  attempting  their  con- 
version. But  with  all  these  wishes,  I  could  not  dis- 
guise from  myself,  that  such  as  I  have  represented,  is 
the  natural  character  of  this  people. 

Something  may  be  said,  no  doubt,  in  opposition  to 
these  views  of  the  subject ;  as,  that  the  frontier  people 
have  been  often  the  aggressors  in  Indian  quarrels.  The 
character  of  the  frontier  people,  has  been  much  mis- 
represented. They  are  generally  a  harmless  and  inof- 
fensive race.  I  have  not  a  doubt  that  most  of  these 
quarrels  originate  in  the  natural  jealousies  of  the  In- 
dians. I  have  been  present  in  two  instances,  where 
they  had  committed  murders,  attended  the  inquest,  and 
heard  the  evidence.  In  both  cases  the  murders  were 
entirely  unprovoked,  even  the  parties  themselves  being 
witnesses.  They  are  a  people  extremely  jealous,  ad- 
dicted to  what  the  French  call  "  tracasserie,  >•  to  sus- 


159 


pieions,  and  whisperings.  A  tribe  never  hunts  long 
on  our  immediate  frontier,  without  stealing  horses, 
getting  into  broils,  and  committing  murder,  either 
among  our  people,  or  among  themselves.  But,  it  is 
objected,  they  are  intoxicated,  and  we  furnish  them  the 
means.  It  is  true,  they  will  be  drunk,  whenever  they 
can,  and  this  is  not  a  very  favourable  trait.  It  is  also 
true,  that  the  government  has  established  the  most  rig- 
id regulations  to  prevent  their  getting  whiskey,  and 
has  enforced  these  regulations  with  heavy  penalties  for 
their  violation,  and  I  have  frequently  seen  these  penal- 
ties imposed. 

I  remember  to  have  seen  a  young  Chactaw  warrior, 
very  finely  dressed  and  painted,  drunk  at  the  piazza 
of  the  house  where  I  lived.  He  made  every  effort  to 
quarrel  with  the  white  people,  who  were  about  the 
house,  and  was  extremely  abusive  and  insulting. 
When  he  found  that  no  one  would  quarrel  with  him, 
in  revenge  he  plunged  his  knife  into  the  neck  of  a 
beautiful  horse  which  he  was  holding  by  the  halter. 

A  respectable  trader  at  the  post  of  Arkansas  had 
informed  against  another  trader  in  the  village,  who 
had  sold  whiskey  to  the  Indians.  This  thing  always 
incurs  their  extreme  resentment.  I  heard  this  gentle- 
man in  conversation  with  two  drunken  Indians,  who 
had  slept  the  preceding  night  under  his  piazza.  They 
were  insolent  and  quarrelsome  in  the  morning.  He 
observed  to  me  that  could  he  find  who  had  enabled 
them  to  get  drunk,  he  would  inform  against  him.  He 
asked  them,  where  they  had  purchased  their  whiskey? 
They  gave  him  a  bitter  smile,  and  intimated,  that  they 
well  understood  his  object,  in  asking  the  question.  He 
somewhat  sternly  repeated  the  question,  Where  did  you 


160 


purchase  your  whiskey  ?"  They  held  their  bottles  up 
in  the  air,  and  informed  him,  that  the  u  great  Kentucky 
captain/'  pointing  to  the  clouds,  had  rained  the  whiskey 
into  their  bottles. 

In  the  immense  extent  of  frontier,  which  I  have 
visited,  I  have  heard  many  an  affecting  tale  of  the  hor- 
rible barbarities  and  murders  of  the  Indians,  precisely 
of  a  character  with  those,  which  used  to  be  recorded 
in  the  early  periods  of  New  England  history.  I  saw 
two  children,  the  only  members  of  a  family — consist- 
ing of  a  father,  mother,  and  a  number  of  children — 
that  were  spared  by  the  Indians.  It  was  on  the  river 
Femme-Osage.  A  party  of  Sacs  and  Foxes,  that  had 
been  burning  and  murdering  in  the  vicinity,  came  upon 
the  house,  as  the  father  was  coming  in  from  abroad. 
They  shot  him>  and  he  fled,  wounded,  a  little  distance, 
and  fell.  They  then  tomahawked  the  wife,  and  man- 
gled her  body.  She  had  been  boiling  the  sap  of  the 
sugar-maple.  The  Indians  threw  two  of  the  children 
into  the  boiling  kettles.  The  younger  of  the  two  or- 
phans that  I  saw,  was  but  three  years-  old.  His  sister 
two  years  older,  drew  him  under  the  bed  before  they 
were  seen  by  the  Indians.  It  had,  in  the  fashion  of 
the  country,  a  cotton  counterpane  that  descended  to 
the  floor.  The  howling  of  these  demons,  the  firing, 
the  barking  of  the  dogs,  the  shrieking  of  the  children 
that  became  their  victims,  never  drew  from  these  poor 
things,  that  were  trembling  under  the  bed,  a  cry,  or 
the  smallest  noise.  The  Indians  thrust  their  knives 
through  the  bed,  that  nothing  concealed  there,  might 
escape  them,  and  went  off,  through  fear  of  pursuit, 
leaving  these  desolate  beings  unharmed. 

You  will  see  the  countenances  of  the  frontier  peo- 
ple, as  they  relate  numberless  tragic  occurrences  of  this 


1G1 


sort,  gradually  kindling.  There  seems,  between  them 
and  the  savages,  a  deep-rooted  enmity,  like  that  be- 
tween the  seed  of  the  woman  and  the  serpent.  They 
would  be  more  than  human,  if  retaliation  were  not 
sometimes  the  consequence.  They  tell  you,  with  a> 
certain  expression  of  countenance,  that  in  former  days 
when  they  met  an  Indian  in  the  woods,  they  were  very 
apt  to  see  him  suffer  under  the  falling-sickness.  This 
dreadful  state  of  things  has  now  passed  away,  and  I 
have  seldom  heard  of  late  of  a  murder  com  milted  by 
the  whites  upon  the  Indians.  Twenty  years  ago,  the 
Indians  and  whites  both  considered,  when  casual  ren- 
counters took  place  in  the  woods,  that  it  was  a  fair 
shot  upon  both  sides.  A  volume  would  not  contain 
the  cases  of  these  unrecorded  murders. 

The  narrations  of  a  frontier  circle,  as  they  draw 
round  their  evening  fire,  often  turn  upon  the  exploits 
of  the  old  race  of  men,  the  heroes  of  the  past  days, 
who  wore  hunting  shirts,  and  settled  the  country.  In- 
stances of  undaunted  heroism,  of  desperate  daring,  mid 
seemingly  of  more  than  mortal  endurance,  are  re- 
corded of  these  people.  In  a  boundless  forest  full  of 
panthers  and  bears,  and  more  dreadful  Indians,  with 
not  a  white  within  a  hundred  miles,  a  solitary  adven- 
turer penetrates  the  deepest  wilderness,  and  begins  to 
make  the  strokes  of  his  axe  resound  among  the  trees. 
The  Indians  find  him  out,  ambush,  and  imprison  him. 
A  more  acute  and  desperate  warrior  than  themselves, 
they  wish  to  adopt  him,  and  add  his  strength  to  their 
tribe.  He  feigns  contentment,  uses  the  savage's  insin- 
uations, outruns  him  in  the  use  of  his  own  ways  of 
management,  but  watches  his  opportunity,  and  when 
their  suspicion  is  lulled,  and  they  fall  asleep,  he  springs 

21 


162 


upon  them,  kills  his  keepers,  and  bounds  away  into 
unknown  forests,  pursued  by  them  and  their  dogs. 
He  leaves  them  all  at  fault,  subsists  many  days  upon 
berries  and  roots,  and  finally  arrives  at  his  little 
clearing,  and  resumes  his  axe.  In  a  little  palisade, 
three  or  four  resolute  men  stand  a  siege  of  hundreds 
of  assailants,  kill  many  of  them,  and  mount  calmly 
on  the  roof  of  their  shelter,  to  pour  water  upon  the 
fire,  which  burning  arrows  have  kindled  there,  and 
achieve  the  work  amidst  a  shower  of  balls.  A  thou- 
sand instances  of  that  stern  and  unshrinking  courage 
which  had  shaken  hands  with  death,  of  that  endurance 
which  defied  all  the  inventions  of  Indian  torture, 
are  recorded  of  these  wonderful  men.  The  dread 
of  being  roasted  alive  by  the  Indians,  called  into  ac- 
tion all  their  hidden  energies  and  resources. 

1  will  relate  one  case  of  this  sort,  because  I  knew 
the  party,  and  lest  I  become  tiresome  on  this  head, 
will  close  this  kind  of  detail.  The  name  of  the  hero 
in  question,  was  Baptiste  Roy,  a  Frenchman,  who 
solicited,  and.  I  am  sorry  to  say,  in  vain,  a  compensa- 
tion for  his  bravery  from  congress.  It  occurred  at 
u  Cote  sans  Dessein  on  the  Missouri.  A  numerous 
band  of  northern  savages,  amounting  to  four  hundred, 
beset  the  garrison  house,  into  which  he,  his  wife,  and 
another  man,  had  retreated.  They  were  hunters  by 
profession,  and  had  powder,  lead,  and  four  rifles  in  the 
house.  They  immediately  began  to  fire  upon  the  In- 
dians. The  wife  melted  and  moulded  the  lead,  and 
assisted  in  loading,  occasionally  taking  her  shot  with 
the  other  two.  Every  Indian  that  approached  the 
house,  was  sure  to  fall.  The  wife  relates,  that  the 
guns  would  soon  become  too  much  heated  to  hold  in 
t?he  hand.    Water  was  necessary  to  cool  them.  It 


163 


was,  I  think,  on  the  second  day  of  the  siege  thajt 
Eov's  assistant  was  killed.  He  became  impatient 
to  look  on  the  scene  of  execution,  and  see  what  they 
had  done.  He  put  his  eye  to  the  port- hole,  and  a 
well  aimed  shot  destroyed  him.  The  Indians  per- 
ceived, that  their  shot  had  taken  effect,  and  gave  a 
yell  of  exultation.  They  were  encouraged  by  the 
momentary  slackening  of  the  fire,  to  approach  the 
house,  and  fire  it-over  the  heads  of  Roy  and  his  wife. 
He  deliberately  mounted  the  roof,  knocked  off  the 
burning  boards,  and  escaped  untouched  from  the 
shower  of  balls.  What  must  have  been  the  nights  of 
this  husband  and  wife  ?  After  four  days  of  unavail- 
ing siege,  the  Indians  gave  a  yell,  exclaimed,  that 
the  house  was  a  66  grand  medicine/'  meaning,  that  it . 
was  charmed  and  impregnable,  and  went  away. 
They  left  behind  forty  bodies  to  attest  the  marksman- 
ship and  steadiness  of  the  besieged,  and  a  peck  of 
balls  collected  from  the  logs  of  the  house, 

I  have  already  hinted  at  the  facility  with  which  the 
French  and  Indians  intermix.  There  seems  to  be  as 
natural  an  affinity  of  the  former  people  for  them,  as 
there  is  repulsion  between  the  Anglo-Americans  and 
them.  Monstrous  exceptions  sometimes  occur,  but  it 
is  so  rare  that  a  permanent  connexion  is  formed  be- 
tween an  American  and  an  Indian  woman,  that  even 
the  French  themselves  regard  it  as  matter  of  aston- 
ishment. The  antipathy  between  the  two  races  seems 
fixed  and  unalterable.  Peace  there  often  is  between 
them  when  they  are  cast  in  the  same  vicinity,  but  any 
affectionate  intercourse,  never.  Whereas  the  French 
settle  among  them,  learn  their  language,  intermarry, 
and  soon  get  smoked  to  the  same  copper  complexion. 
A  race  of  half-breeds  springs  up  in  their  calftns.  A 


164 


singular  cast  is  the  result  of  the  intermarriages  of 
these  half-breeds,  called  quarteroons.  The  lank  hair, 
the  Indian  countenance  and  manners  predominate, 
even  in  these.  It  is  a  singular  fact,  that  the  Indian 
feature  descends  much  farther  in  these  intermixtures, 
and  is  much  slower  to  be  amalgamated  with  that  of 
the  wNltes,  than  that  of  the  negro.  Prairie  du  Chien, 
on  the  upper  Mississippi,  is  a  sample  of  these  inter- 
mixtures. So  are  most  of  the  French  settlements  on 
tfie  Missouri,  Illinois,  ard  in  short,  wherever  the 
"  petits  paysans  ??  come  in  contact  with  the  Indians. 
It  would  be  an  interesting  disquisition,  and  one  that 
would  throw  true  light  upon  the  great  difference  of 
national  character  between  the  French  and  Anglo- 
Americans,  which  should  assign  the  true  causes  of  this 
affinity  on  the  one  part,  and  antipathy  on  the  other. 

You  will  expect  me  to  say  something  of  the  lonely 
records  of  the  former  races  that  inhabited  this  coun- 
try, That  there  has  formerly  been  a  much  more  nu- 
merous population  than  exists  here  at  present,  with- 
out running  foul  of  the  theories  or  speculations  of 
any  other  persons,  I  am  fully  impressed  from  the  re- 
sult of  my  own  personal  observations.  From  the 
highest  points  of  the  Ohio  to  where  I  am  now  writing, 
and  far  up  the  upper  Mississippi  and  Missouri,  the 
more  the  country  is  explored  and  peopled,  and  the 
more  its  surface  is  penetrated,  not  only  are  there  more 
mounds  brought  to  view,  but  more  incontestable  marks 
of  a  numerous  population.  Wells  artificially  walled, 
different  structures  of  convenience  or  defence,  have 
been  found  in  such  numbers,  as  no  longer  to  excite 
curiosity.  ^Ornaments  of  silver  and  of  copper,  pot- 
tery, of  which  I  have  seen  numberless  specimens  on 
all  theafe  waters,  not  to  mention  the  mounds  them- 


165 


selves,  and  the  still  more  tangible  evidence  of  human 
bodies  found  in  a  state  of  preservation,  and  of  sepul- 
chres full  of  bones,  are  unquestionable  demonstra- 
tions, that  this  country  was  once  possessed  of  a  nu- 
merous population.  Some  of  the  mounds,  such,  for 
example,  as  those  between  the  two  Miamies,  those 
near  the  Cahokia,  and  those  far  down  the  Missis- 
sippi, in  the  vicinity  of  St.  Francisville,  must  have 
been  works  of  great  labour.  Whatever  may  have 
been  their  former  objects  and  uses,  they  all  exhibit 
one  indication  of  art.  All  that  I  have  seen,  were  in 
regular  forms,  generally  cones  or  parallelograms.  If 
it  be  remarked  that  the  rude  monuments  of  this  kind, 
those  of  the  Mexican  Indians  even,  are  structures  of 
stone,  and  that  these  are  all  of  earth, — I  can  only 
say,  that  these  memorials  of  former  toil  and  exist- 
ence, are,  as  far  as  my  observation  has  extended,  all 
in  regions  destitute  of  stones.  The  limits  of  this 
work  exclude  any  attempts  to  describe  the  walls,  and 
other  regular  works  of  stone,  that  are  occasionally 
found  in  these  regions.  The  mounds  themselves, 
though  of  earth,  are  not  those  rude  and  shapeless 
heaps,  that  they  have  been  commonly  represented  to 
be.  I  have  seen,  for  instance,  in  different  parts  of 
the  Atlantic  country,  the  breast  works  and  other  de- 
fences of  earth,  that  were  thrown  up  by  our  people, 
during  the  war  of  the  Revolution.  None  of  those 
monuments  date  back  more  than  fifty  years.  These 
mounds  must  date  back  to  remote  depths  in  the  olden 
time.  From  the  ages  of  the  trees  on  them,  and  from 
other  data,  we  can  trace  them  back  six  hundred 
years,  leaving  it  entirely  to  the  imagination  to  de- 
scend deeper  into  the  depths  of  time  beyond.  And  yet 
after  the  rains,  the  washing,  and  the  crumbling  of  so 


166 


many  a^es?  many  of  them  are  still  twenty-five  feet 
high.  Ail  of  them  are  incomparably  more  conspicu- 
ous monuments,  than  the  works  which  I  just  noticed. 
Some  of  them  are  spread  over  an  extent  of  acres,  I 
have  seen,  great  and  small,  I  should  suppose,  an  hun- 
dred. Though  diverse  in  position  and  form,  they  11 
have  an  uniform  character.  They  are  for  the  most  part 
in  rich  soils,  and  in  conspicuous  situations.  Those  on 
the  Ohio  are  covered  with  very  large  trees.  But  in 
the  prairie  regions,  where  I  have  seen  the  greatest 
numbers,  they  are  covered  with  tall  grass,  and  gene- 
rally near  benches,  which  indicate  the  former  courses 
of  the  rivers,  in  the  finest  situations  for  present  cul- 
ture ;  and  the  greatest  population  clearly  has  been  in 
those  very  positions,  where  the  most  dense  future 
population  will  be. 

You  have  been  informed  that  I  cultivated  a  small 
farm  on  that  beautiful  prairie  below  St.  Charles, 
which  I  have  attempted  to  describe,  called  The  Ma- 
melle,"  or  "  Point  prairie."  In  my  enclosure,  and  di- 
rectly back  of  my  house,  were  two  conical  mounds  of 
considerable  elevation.  A  hundred  paces  in  front  of 
them,  was  a  high  bench,  making  the  shore  of  the 
"  Marais  Croche,"  an  extensive  marsh,  and  evident- 
ly the  former  bed  of  the  Missouri.  In  digging  a 
ditch  on  the  margin  of  this  bench,  at  the  depth  of 
four  feet,  we  discovered  great  quantities  of  broken 
pottery,  belonging  to  vessels  of  all  siz^.s  and  charac- 
ters. Some  must  have  been  of  a  size  to  contain  four 
gallons.  This  must  have  been  a  very  populous  place. 
The  soil  is  admirable,  the  prospect  boundless;  but 
from  the  scanty  number  of  habitations  in  view,  rather 
lonely.  It  will  one  day  contain  an  immense  popula- 
tion again.     I  have  walked  on  these  mounds,  when 


167 


the  twilight  of  evening  was  closing  in.  I  have  sur- 
veyed their  form,  have  ascertained  that  they  are  full 
of  human  hones,  and  have  found,  as  you  will  easily 
believe,  at  such  a  time  and  place,  sufficient  scope  for 
my  lonely  musings.  You,  who  are  a  poet  and  a  fath- 
er, will  excuse  a  father  for  inserting  some  verses  on 
this  subject,  by  my  son,  your  former  pupil. 

LINES 

ON  THE  MOUNDS  IN  THE  CAHOKIA  PRAIRIE,  ILLINOIS. 

The  sun's  last  rays  were  fading  from  the  west, 
The  deepening  shade  stole  slowly  o'er  the  plain, 
The  evening  breeze  had  lulled  itself  to  rest, 
And  all  was  silence,- — save  the  mournful  strain 
With  which  the  widowed  turtle  wooed  in  vain 
Her  absent  lover  to  her  lonely  nest. 

Now,  one  by  one  emerging  to  the  sight, 
The  brighter  stars  assumed  their  seals  on  high  ; 
The  moon's  pale  crescent  glowed  serenely  blight,  ' 
As  the  last  twilight  fled  along  the  sky, 
And  all  her  train,  in  cloudless  majesty, 
Were  glittering  on  the  dark  blue  vault  of  night. 

I  lingered,  by  some  soft  enchantment  bound, 
And  gazed  enraptured  on  the  lovely  scene ; 
F:om  the  dark  summit  of  an  Indian  mound 
I  saw  the  plain  outspread  in  living  green, 
Its  fringe  of  cliffs  was  in  the  distance  seen, 
And  the  dark  line  of  forest  sweeping  round. 

I  saw  the  lesser  mounds  which  round  me  rose; 
Each  was  a  giant  heap  of  rnoulderipg  clay ; 
There  slept  the  warriors,  women,  friends,  and  foes., 
There  side  by  side  the  rival  chieftains  lay; 
And  mighty  tribes,  swept  from  the  face  of  day, 
Forgot  their  wars  and  found  a  long  repose,  v 


168 


Ye  mouldering  relics  of  departed  years, 

Your  names  have  perished  ;  not  a  trace  remains, 

Save  where  the  grass-grown  mound  its  summit  rear? 

From  the  green  bosom  of  your  native  plains; 

Say,  do  your  spirits  wear  oblivion's  chains  ? 

Did  death  forever  quench  your  hopes  and  fears  ? 

Or  live  they  shrined  in  some  congenial  form  ? 
What  if  the  swan  who  leaves  her  summer  nest 
Among  the  northern  lakes,  and  mounts  the  storm 
To  wing  her  rapid  flight  to  climes  more  blest, 
Should  hover  o'er  the  very  spot  where  rest 
The  crumbling  bones— -once  with  her  spirit  warm. 

What  if  the  song,  so  soft,  so  sweet,  so  clear, 

Whose  music  fell  so  gently  from  on  high, 

And  which,  enraptured,  I  have  stopped  to  hear, 

Gazing  in  vain  upon  the  cloudless  sky, — 

Was  their  own  soft  funereal  melody 

While  lingering  o'er  the  scenes  that  once  were  dear. 

Or  did  those  fairy  hopes  of  future  bliss, 

Which  simple  nature  to  your  bosoms  gave, 

Find  other  worlds  with  fairer  skies  than  this 

Beyond  the  gloomy  portals  of  the  grave, 

In  whose  bright  climes  the  virtuous  and  the  brave 

Rest  from  their  toils,  and  all  their  cares  dismiss  ? — 

Where  the  great  hunter  still  pursues  the  chase, 
And  o'er  the  sunny  mountains  tracks  the  deer, 
Or  where  he  finds  each  long  extinguished  race, 
And  sees  once  more  the  mighty  mammoth  rear 
The  giant  form  which  lies  imbedded  here, 
Of  other  years  the  sole  remaining  trace. 

Or  it  may  be  that  still  ye  linger  near 

The  sleeping  ashes,  once  your  dearest  pride; 

And  could  your  forms  to  mortal  eye  appear, 


169 


Or  the  dark  veil  of  death  be  thrown  aside, 
Then  might  I  see  your  restless  shadows  glide 
With  watchful  care  around  these  relics  dear. 

If  so,  forgive  the  rude  unhallowed  feet 

Which  trod  so  thoughtless  o'er  your  mighty  dead  $ 

I  would  not  thus  profane  their  lone  retreat, 

Nor  trample  where  the  sleeping  warrior's  head 

Lay  pillowed  on  his  everlasting  bed 

Age  after  age,  still  sunk  in  slumbers  sweet. 

Farewell — and  may  you  still  in  peace  repose, 
Still  o'er  you  may  the  flowers  untrodden  bloom, 
And  softly  wave  to  every  breeze  that  blows, 
Casting  their  fragrance  on  each  lonely  tomb 
In  which  your  tribes  sleep  in  earth's  common  womb, 
And  mingle  with  the  clay  from  which  they  rose. 
March  10,  1825. 

The  English,  when  they  sneer  at  our  country,  speak 
of  it  as  sterile  in  moral  interest.  It  has,  say  they,  no 
monuments,  no  ruins,  none  of  the  massive  remains  of 
former  ages ;  no  castles,  no  mouldering  abbeys,  no 
baronial  towers  and  dungeons,  nothing  to  connect  the 
imagination  and  the  heart  with  the  past,  no  recollec- 
tions of  former  ages,  to  associate  the  past  with  the 
future.  But  I  have  been  attempting  sketches  of  the 
largest  and  most  fertile  valley  in  the  world,  larger,  in 
fact,  than  half  of  Europe,  all  its  remotest  points  being 
brought  into  proximity  by  a  stream,  which  runs  the 
length  of  that  continent,  and  to  which  all  but  two  or 
three  of  the  rivers  of  Europe  are  but  rivulets.  Its  for- 
ests make  a  respectable  figure,  even  placed  beside  Blen- 
heim park.  We  have  lakes  which  could  find  a  place 
for  the  Cumberland  lakes  in  the  hollow  of  one  of  their 
islands.  We  have  prairies,  which  have  struck  me  as 
22 


170 


among  the  sublimest  prospects  in  nature.     There  we 
see  the  sun  rising  over  a  boundless  plain,  where  the 
blue  of  the  heavens  in  all  directions  touches  and  min- 
gles with  the  verdure  of  the  flowers.     It  is  to  me  a 
view  far  more  glorious  than  that  on  which  the  sun 
rises  over  a  barren  and  angry  waste  of  sea.    The  one 
is  soft,  cheerful,  associated  with  life,  and  requires  an 
easier  effort  of  the  imagination  to  travel  beyond  the 
eye.    The  other  is  grand,  but  dreary,  desolate,  and 
always  ready  to  destroy.    In  the  most  pleasing  posi- 
tions of  these  prairies,  we  have  our  Indian  mounds, 
which  proudly  rise  above  the  plain.    At  first  the  eye 
mistakes  them  for  hills  ;  but  when  it  catches  the  regu- 
larity of  their  breastworks  and  ditches,  it  discovers  at 
once  that  they  are  the  labours  of  art  and  of  men. 
When  the  evidence  of  the  senses  convinces  us  that 
human  bones  moulder  in  these  masses,  when  you  dig 
about  them  and  bring  to  light  their  domestic  utensils, 
and  are  compelled  to  believe  that  the  busy  tide  of  life 
once  flowed  here,  when  you  see  at  once  that  these 
races  were  of  a  very  different  character  from  the  pres- 
ent generation,  you  begin  to  inquire  if  any  tradition, 
if  any  [the  faintest  records  can  throw  any  light  upon 
these  habitations  of  men  of  another  age.    Is  there  no 
scope  beside  these  mounds  for  imagination,  and  for 
contemplation  of  the  past  ?    The  men,  their  j-oys,  their 
sorrows,  their  bones,  are  all  buried  together.     But  the 
grand  features  of  nature  remain.    There  is  the  beauti- 
ful prairie,  over  which  they  "  strutted  through  life's 
poor  play."     The  forests,  the  hills,  the  mounds,  lift 
their  heads  in  unalterable  repose,  and  furnish  the  same 
sources  of  contemplation  to  us,  that  they  did  to  those 
generations  that  have  passed  away. 


171 


It  is  true,  we  have  little  reason  to  suppose  that 
they  were  the  guilty  dens  of  petty  tyrants,  who  let 
loose  their  half  savage  vassals,  to  burn,  plunder, 
enslave,  and  despoil  an  adjoining  den.  There  are 
no  remains  of  the  vast  and  useless  monasteries,  where 
ignorant  and  lazy  monks  dreamed  over  their  lusts, 
or  meditated  their  vile  plans  of  acquisition  and  im- 
posture. Here  must  have  been  a  race  of  men  on 
these  charming  plains,  that  had  every  call  from  the 
seenes  that  surrounded  them,  to  contented  existence 
and  tranquil  meditation.  Unfortunate,  as  men  view  the 
thing,  they  must  have  been.  Innocent  and  peaceful 
they  probably  were  ;  for  had  they  been  reared  amidst 
wars  and  quarrels,  like  the  present  Indians,  they 
would  doubtless  have  maintained  their  ground,  and 
their  posterity  would  have  remained  to  this  day. 
Beside  them,  moulder  the  huge  bones  of  their  contem- 
porary beasts,  which  must  have  been'of  thrice  the  size 
of  the  elephant.  I  cannot  judge  of  the  recollections 
excited  by  castles  and  towers  that  I  have  not  seen. 
But  I  have  seen  all  of  grandeur,  which  our  cities  can 
display.  I  have  seen,  too,  these  lonely  tombs  of  the 
desert, — seen  them  rise  from  these  boundless  and  un- 
peopled plains.  My  imagination  had  been  filled, 
and  my  heart  has  been  full.  The  nothingness  of  the 
brief  dream  of  human  life  has  forced  itself  upon  my 
mind.  The  unknown  race,  to  which  these  bones  be- 
longed, had,  I  doubt  not,  as  many  projects  of  ambition 
and  hoped  as  sanguinely  to  have  their  names  survive, 
as  the  great  of  the  present  day. 

The  more  the  subject  of  the  past  races  of  men  and 
animals  in  this  region  is  investigated,  the  more  per- 
plexed it  seems  to  become.  The  huge  bones  of  the 
animals  indicate  them  to  be  vastly  larger  than  any 


172 


that  now  exist  on  the  earth.    All  that  I  have  seen  and 
heard  of  the  remains  of  the  men,  would  seem  to  show, 
that  they  w  ere  smaller  than  the  men  of  our  times. 
All  the  bodies,  that  have  been  found  in  that  state 
of  high  preservation,  in  which  they  were  discovered 
in  nitrous  caves,  were  considerably  smaller  than  the 
present  ordinary  stature  of  men.    The  two  bodies, 
that    were  found  in  the  vast  limestone  cavern  in 
Tennessee,  one  of  which  I  saw  at  Lexington,  were 
neither  of  them  more  than  four  feet  in  height.  It 
seemed  to  me,  that  this  must  have  been  nearly  the 
height  of  the  living  person.    The  teeth  and  nails  did 
not  seem  to  indicate  the  shrinking  of  the  flesh  from 
them  in  the  desiccating  process  by  which  they  were 
preserved.    The  teeth  were  s        ted  by  considera- 
ble intervals,  and  were  small,  long,  white,  and  sharp, 
reviving  the  horrible  images  of  nursery  tales  of  ogres* 
teeth.    The  hair  seemed  to  have  been  sandy,  or  in- 
clining to  yellow.    It  is  well  known  that  nothing  is  so 
uniform  in  the  present  Indian,  as  his  lank  black  hair. 
From  the  pains  taken  to  preserve  the  bodies,  and  the 
great  labour  of  making  the  funeral  robes  in  which 
they  were  folded,  they  must  have  been  of  the  ((  blood 
royal,"  or  personages  of  great  consideration  in  their 
day.    The  person  that  I  saw  had  evidently  died  by 
a  blow  on  the  skull.    The  blood  had  coagulated  there 
into  a  mass  of  a  texture  and  colour,  sufficiently  mark- 
ed to  show  that  it  had  been  blood.    The  envelope 
of  the  body  was  double.    Two  splendid  blankets, 
completely  woven  with  the  most  beautiful  feathers  of 
the  wild  turkey,  arranged  in  regular  stripes  and  com- 
partments, encircled  it.    The  cloth,  on  which  these 
feathers  were  woven,  was  a  kind  of  linen  of  neat  texture, 
of  the  same  kind  with  that  which  is  now  woven  from 


173 


the  fibres  of  the  nettle.  The  body  was  evidently 
that  of  a  female  of  middle  age,  and  I  should  suppose, 
that  her  majesty  weighed,  when  I  saw  her,  six  or  eight 
pounds. 

At  the  time  that  the  Lilliputian  graves  were  found 
on  the  Maramec,  in  the  county  of  St.  Louis,  many 
people  went  from  that  town  to  satisfy  their  curiosity 
by  inspec  ting  them.  I  made  arrangements  to  go,  but 
was  called  away  by  indispensable  duties.  I  relate 
them  from  memory  only,  and  from  the  narrative,  oral 
and  printed,  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Peck,  who  examined 
them  on  the  spot.  It  appears  from  him,  that  the 
graves  were  numerous,  that  the  coffins  were  of  stone, 
that  the  bones  in  some  instances  were  nearly  en- 
tire ;  that  the  length  of  the  bodies  was  determined  by 
that  of  the  coffins,  which  they  filled,  and  that  the  bod- 
ies in  general  could  not  have  been  more  than  from 
three  feet  and  a  half  to  four  feet  in  length.  Thus, 
it  should  seem,  that  the  generations  of  the  past  in  this 
region  were  mammoths  and  pigmies. 

I  have  examined  the  pottery,  of  which  I  have  spok- 
en above,  with  some  attention.  It  is  unbaked,  and 
the  glazing  very  incomplete,  since  oil  will  soak  through 
it.  It  is  evident,  from  slight  departures  from  regular- 
ity in  the  surface,  that  it  was  moulded  by  the  hand 
and  not  by  any  thing  like  our  lathe.  The  composition, 
when  fractured,  shows  many  white  floccules  in  the 
clay,  that  resemble  fine  snow,  and  this  I  judge  to  be 
pulverized  shells.  The  basis  of  the  composition  ap- 
pears to  be  the  alluvial  clay,  carried  along  in  the  wa- 
ters of  the  Mississippi,  and  called  by  the  French  "  terre 
grasse,"  from  its  greasy  feel.  Samples  of  this  pottery 
more  or  less  perfect,  are  shown  every  where  on  the  riv- 
er.   Some  of  the  most  perfect  have  been  dug  from 


174 


what  are  called  the  "  chalk  banks,"  below  the  mouth 
of  the  Ohio.  The  most  perfect,  that  I  have  seen,  be- 
ing in  fact  as  entire  as  when  first  formed,  was  a  ves- 
sel in  my  possession.  It  was  a  drinking  jug,  like  the 
"  scyphus "  of  the  ancients.  It  was  dug  from  the 
chalk-bank.  It  was  smooth,  well  moulded,  and  of 
the  colour  of  common  grey  stone-ware.  It  had  been 
rounded  with  great  care,  and  yet,  from  slight  indenta- 
tions on  the  surface,  it  was  manifest  that  it  had 
been  so  wrought  in  the  palm  of  the  hand.  The 
model  of  the  form  was  a  simple  and  obvious  one — the 
bottle-gourd, — and  it  would  contain  about  two  quarts. 
This  vessel  iiad  been  used  to  hold  animal  oil :  for  it  had 
soaked  through,  and  varnished  the  external  surface. 
Its  neck  was  that  of  a  squaw,  knowrn  by  the  clubbing 
of  the  hair,  after  the  Indian  fashion.  The  moulder 
was  not  an  accurate  copyist,  and  had  learned  neither 
statuary  nor  anatomy  ;  for,  although  the  finish  was  fine, 
the  head  was  monstrous.  There  seemed  to  have  been 
an  intention  of  wit  in  the  outlet.  It  was  the  horrible 
and  distorted  mouth  of  a  savage,  and  in  drinking  you 
would  be  obliged  to  place  your  lips  in  contact  with 
those  of  madam,  the  squaw. 


LETTER  XVII.— ST.  CHARLES. 


The  people  in  the  Atlantic  states  have  not  yet  re- 
covered from  the  horror,  inspired  by  the  term  H  back- 
woodsnian."  This  prejudice  is  particularly  strong  in 
New  England,  and  is  more  or  less  felt  from  Maine  to 
Georgia.    When  I  first  visited  this  country,  I  had  my 


175 


full  share,  and  my  family  by  far  too  much  for  their 
comfort.    la  approaching  the  country,  I  heard  a  thou- 
sand stories  of  gougings,  and  robberies,  and  shooting 
down  with  the  rifle.    I  have  travelled  in  these  region^ 
thousands  of  miles  under  all  circumstances  of  exposure 
and  danger.    I  have  travelled  alone,  or  in  company 
only  with  such  as  needed  protection,  instead  of  being 
able  to  impart  it ;  and  this  too,  in  many  instances, 
where  I  was  not  known  as  a  minister,  or  where  such 
knowledge  would  have  had  no  influence  in  protecting 
me.    I  never  have  carried  the  slightest  weapon  of 
defence.  I  scarcely  remember  to  have  experienced  any 
thing  that  resembled  insult,  or  to  have  felt  myself  in 
danger  from  the  people.    I  have  often  seen  men  that 
had  lost  an  eye.    Instances  of  murder,  numerous  and 
h&rrible  in  their  circumstances,  have  occurred  in  my 
vicinity.    But  they  were  such  lawless  rencounters,  as 
terminate  in  murder  every  where,  and  in  which  the 
drunkenness,   brutality,  and  violence   were  mutual. 
They  were  catastrophes,  in  which  quiet  and  sober  men 
would  be  in  no  danger  of  being  involved.    When  we 
look  round  these  immense  regions,  and  consider  that 
I  have  been  in  settlements  three  hundred  miles  from 
any  court  of  justice,  when  we  look  at  the  position  of 
the  men,  and  the  state  of  things,  the  wonder  is,  that 
so  few  outrages  and  murders  occur.    The  gentlemen 
of  the  towns,  even  here,  speak  often  with  a  certain 
contempt  and  horror  of  the  backwoodsmen.     I  have 
read,  and  not  without  feelings  of  pain,  the  bitter  re- 
presentations of  the  learned  and  virtuous  Dr.  Dwight, 
in  speaking  of  them.    He  represents  these  vast  re- 
gions, as  a  grand  reservoir  for  the  scum  of  the  Atlantic 
states.    He  characterizes  in  the  mass  the  emigrants 
from  New  England,  as  discontented  coblers,  too  proud. 


176 


too  much  in  debt,  too  unprincipled,  too  much  puffed 
up  with  self-conceit,  too  strongly  impressed  that  their 
fancied  talents  could  not  find  scope  in  their  own 
country,  to  stay  there.  It  is  true  there  are  worthless 
people  here,  and  the  most  so,  it  must  be  confessed,  are 
from  New  England.  It  is  true  there  are  gamblers,  and 
gougers,  and  outlaws ;  but  there  are  fewer  of  them, 
than  from  the  nature  of  things,  and  the  character  of  the 
age  and  the  woild,  we  ought  to  expect.  But  it  is  un- 
worthy of  the  excellent  man  in  question  so  to  designate 
this  people  in  the  mass.  The  backwoodsman  of  the 
west,  as  I  have  seen  him,  is  generally  an  amiable  and 
virtuous  man.  His  general  motive  for  coming  here  is 
to  be  a  freeholder,  to  have  plenty  of  rich  land,  and  to 
be  able  to  settle  his  children  about  him.  It  is  a  most 
virtuous  motive.  And  notwithstanding  all  that  Dr. 
Dwight  and  Talleyrand  have  said  to  the  contrary, 
1  fully  believe,  that  nine  in  ten  of  the  emigrants 
have  come  here  with  no  other  motive.  You  find,  in 
truth,  that  he  has  vices  and  barbarisms,  peculiar  to  his 
situation.  His  manners  are  rough.  He  wears,  it  may 
be,  a  long  beard.  He  has  a  great  quantity  of  bear 
or  deer  skins  wrought  into  his  household  establishment, 
his  furniture,  and  dress.  He  carries  a  knife,  or  a  dirk 
in  his  bosom,  and  when  in  the  woods  has  a  rifle  on 
his  back,  and  a  pack  of  dogs  at  his  heels.  An  Atlan- 
tic stranger,  transferred  directly  from  one  of  our  cities 
to  his  door,  would  recoil  from  a  rencounter  with  him. 
But  remember,  that  his  rifle  and  his  dogs  are  among 
his  chief  means  of  support  and  profit.  Remember, 
that  all  his  first  days  here  were  passed  in  dread  of  the 
savages.  Remember,  that  he  still  encounters  them,  still 
meets  bears  and  panthers.  Enter  his  door,  and  tell 
him  you  are  benighted,  and  wish  the  shelter  of  his 


177 


cabin  for  the  night.  The  welcome  is  indeed  seeming- 
ly ungracious :  "  I  reckon  you  can  stay,"  or  16 1  sup- 
pose we  must  let  you  stay."  But  this  apparent  ungra- 
ciousness is  the  harbinger  of  every  kindness  that  he 
can  bestow,  and  every  comfort  that  his  cabin  can 
afford.  Good  coffee,  corn  bread  and  butter,  venison, 
pork,  wild  and  tame  fowls  are  set  before  you.  His 
wife,  timid,  silent,  reserved,  but  constantly  attentive 
to  your  comfort,  does  not  sit  at  the  table  with  you,  but 
like  the  wives  of  the  patriarchs,  stands  and  attends 
on  you.  You  are  shown  to  the  best  bed  which  the 
house  can  offer.  When  this  kind  of  hospitality  has 
been  afforded  you  as  long  as  you  choose  to  stay,  and 
when  you  depart,  and  speak  about  your  bill,  you  are 
most  commonly  told  with  some  slight  mark  of  resent- 
ment, that  they  do  not  keep  tavern.  Even  the  flax- 
en-headed urchins  will  turn  away  from  your  mo- 
ney. 

In  all  my  extensive  intercourse  with  these  people, 
I  do  not  recollect  but  one  instance  of  positive  rudeness 
and  inhospitality.  It  was  on  the  waters  of  the  Cuivre 
of  the  upper  Mississippi ;  and  from  a  man  to  whom  I 
had  presented  bibles,  who  had  received  the  hospitali- 
ties of  my  house,  who  had  invited  me  into  his  settle- 
ment to  preach.  I  turned  away  indignantly  from  a 
cold  and  reluctant  reception  here,  made  my  way  from 
the  house  of  this  man, — who  w7as  a  German  and  com- 
paratively rich, — through  deep  and  dark  forests,  and 
amidst  the  concerts  of  wolves  howling  on  the  neigh- 
bouring hills.  Providentially,  about  midnight,  I  heard 
the  barking  of  dogs  at  a  distance,  made  my  way  to 
the  cabin  of  a  very  poor  man,  who  arose  at  midnight, 
took  me  in,  provided  supper,  and  gave  me  a  most  cor- 
dial reception. 

23 


178 


With  this  single  exception,  I  have  found  the  back- 
woodsmen to  be  such  as  I  have  described ;  a  hardy, 
adventurous,  hospitable,  rough,  but  sincere  and  up- 
right race  of  people.  I  have  received  so  many  kind- 
nesses from  them,  that  it  becomes  me  always  to  pre- 
serve a  grateful  and  affectionate  remembrance  of  them. 
If  we  were  to  try  them  by  the  standard  of  New  Eng- 
land customs  and  opinions,  that  is  to  say,  the  customs 
of  a  people  under  entirely  different  circumstances, 
there  would  be  many  things  in  the  picture,  that  would 
strike  us  offensively.  They  care  little  about  ministers, 
and  think  less  about  paying  them.  They  are  averse  to 
all,  even  the  most  necessary  restraints.  They  are 
destitute  of  the  forms  and  observances  of  society  and 
religion;  but  they  are  sincere  and  kind  without  pro- 
fessions, and  have  a  coarse,  but  substantial  morality, 
which  is  often  rendered  more  striking  by  the  immedi- 
ate contrast  of  the  graceful  bows,  civility,  and  profes- 
sions of  their  French  Catholic  neighbours,  who  have 
the  observances  of  society  and  the  forms  of  worship, 
with  often  but  a  scanty  modicum  of  the  blunt  truth 
and  uprightness  of  their  unpolished  neighbours. 

In  the  towns  of  the  upper  country  on  the  Mississip- 
pi, and  especially  in  St.  Louis,  there  is  one  species  of 
barbarism,  that  is  but  too  common  ;  I  mean  the  horrid 
practice  of  duelling.  But  be  it  remembered,  this  is 
the  barbarism  only  of  that  small  class  that  denominate 
themselves  "the  gentlemen."  It  cannot  be  matter  of 
astonishment  that  these  are  common  here,  when  we 
recollect,  that  the  fierce  and  adventurous  spirits  are 
naturally  attracted  to  these  regions,  and  that  it  is  a 
common  proverb  of  the  people,  that  when  we  cross 
the  Mississippi,  "  we  travel  beyond  the  Sabbath." 


179 


It  would  lead  me  to  sueh  personalities  as  I  mean 
to  avoid,  were  I  to  give  jog  details,  and  my  views  of 
the  fatal  duels,  of  which  there  were  so  many  while  I 
was  here.  I  can  only  say,  that  I  lost,  in  this  dreadful 
way,  two  individuals  with  whom  I  had  personal  inter- 
course, and  from  whom  I  had  received  many  kind- 
nesses. One  of  them  was  one  of  the  most  promising, 
and  apparently  the  most  sober  and  moral  young  men 
in  the  state,  the  hope  of  his  family,  and  the  prop  of 
the  old  age  of  his  father.  Ail  that  fell  were  men  in 
office,  of  standing  and  character.  I  am  not  here  going 
to  start  a  dissertation  upon  the  trite  subject  of  duelling, 
the  most  horrible  and  savage  relic  of  a  barbarous 
age.  If  any  thing  could  disgust  reasoning  beings  with 
this  dreadful  practice,  it  would  be  to  have  seen  its  fre- 
quency and  its  terminations  and  consequences  in  this 
region.  The  best  encomium  of  regulated  society,  and 
of  the  restraints  of  order  and  religion,  is  found  in  the 
fact,  that  the  duels  that  occur  here,  compared  with 
those  that  occur  in  New  England,  in  proportion  to  the 
population,  are  as  a  hundred  to  one.  But  even  here, 
it  would  be  unjust  to  infer  that  the  mass  of  the  people 
favour  duelling.  A  single  consideration  will  go  far  to 
explain  its  frequency  of  occurrence  among  the  upper 
classes.  As  we  have  said,  the  ambitious,  fiery,  and 
ungovernable  spirits  emigrate  to  obtain  consequence, 
and  make  their  fortune.  There  is  a  continual  chaos 
of  the  political  elements,  occasioned  by  this  continual 
addition  of  new  and  discordant  materials.  The  new 
adventurers  that  arrive,  have  not  as  yet  had  their  place 
or  their  standing  assigned  them  in  public  opinion.  In 
process  of  time,  this  new  timber  is  inwrought  into  the 
old  political  fabric,  and  thus  it  becomes  continually 
repaired  and  new  moulded.    In  other  words,  people 


180 


come  here  and  find  themselves  in  a  position  to  start  for 
a  new  standing  in  society.  No  new  man  can  ascend 
to  eminence,  without  displacing  some  one  who  is  al- 
ready there.  Where  character  and  estimation  are  set- 
tled by  prescription,  the  occupant  of  the  high  station 
gives  place  peaceably  to  him  that  public  opinion  has 
mounted  to  his  place.  Not  so  to  the  newly  arrived  em- 
igrant, who  makes  his  way  to  public  favour,  before  his 
standing  and  character  have  been  settled  by  general 
estimation.  A  few  partisans  find  it  convenient  to  cry 
up  their  friend,  who  has  recently  emigrated  here  from 
abroad.  This  is  the  very  country  and  region  for  this 
kind  of  crying  up  and  crying  down.  We  know  that 
every  circle,  however  small,  has  its  prodigious  great 
man,  like  Sancho's  beauty,  the  greatest  within  three 
leagues.  How  often  have  I  heard  of  these  great  men 
on  a  small  circle,  the  actual  monopolists  of  all  the 
talents  and  all  the  virtues,  and  yet  men,  of  whom  on 
acquaintance  I  was  compelled  to  form  but  a  very  in- 
different opinion.  To  express  a  doubt  in  this  case  is 
treason.  Even  "  faint  praise  "  is  almost  a  ground  of 
offence.  At  the  mouth  of  the  pistol  it  must  be  settled, 
W7hich  is  the  greater  man  of  the  opposing  circles. 
The  partisans  of  the  opposing  great  men  meet.  Reck- 
lessness about  justice,  and  even  life,  is  generated  by 
the  blasphemy  and  abuse  that  grow  out  of  the  idle 
quarrel.  They  throw  away  their  lives,  and  the  des- 
perate indifference  with  which  they  do  it,  creates  a 
kind  of  respect  in  the  minds  of  them  that  contemplate 
it. 

Many  people  without  education  and  character,  who 
were  not  gentlemen  in  the  circles  where  they  used  to 
move,  get  accommodated  here  from  the  tailor  with 
something  of  the  externals  of  a  gentleman,  and  at 


181 


once  set  up  in  this  newly  assumed  character.  The 
shortest  road  to  settle  their  pretensions  is  to  fight  a 
duel.  Such  are  always  ready  for  the  combat.  Most 
of  the  duels  which  took  place  while  I  was  in  the  coun- 
try, originated  in  causes  like  these. 

The  superstition  in  which  duelling  originated,  is  a 
most  idle  one  ;  for  the  innocent  and  amiable  are  gen- 
erally seen  to  fall,  and  the  worthless  to  survive.  That 
they  are  not  tests  of  courage,  has  been  so  often  said 
and  sung,  that  it  has  become  as  trite  as  it  is  true.  I 
knew  in  that  region  an  officer  that  fell  in  this  way, 
who  was  universally  supposed  to  be  a  coward ;  he 
challenged  his  man,  believing  him  to  be  a  greater  cow- 
ard than  himself ;  but  in  this  he  mistook,  went  out, 
and  was  slain.  It  is  indeed  most  disgusting  to  see 
these  bullies,  who  lie  every  day,  whose  life  in  fact  is 
a  standing  lie,  put  people  to  death  for  calling  them 
liars,  and  immediately  pass  for  men  of  honour  and 
truth. 

One  duel  occurred  on  the  Illinois  side  of  the  river, 
and  not  far  from  St.  Louis,  at  Bellevue,  which  ought 
to  serve  as  a  solemn  warning  against  the  jest  of  trying 
a  man's  courage  in  this  way.  A  young  gentleman,  a 
respectable  attorney,  had  just  commenced  business  in 
that  place.  He  had  been  bullied  by  a  man,  who  was 
indeed  an  officer  in  rank,  but  a  man  of  dubious  char- 
acter. The  young  gentleman  had  been  cautioned 
against  being  drawn  into  the  contest,  and  had  been  as- 
sured, that  according  to  the  orthodox  canons  of  hon- 
our, the  character  of  the  man  did  not  justify  fighting 
him.  But  an  idea  was  entertained,  that  he  had  not 
sufficient  nerve  to  stand  a  challenge.  It  was  agreed 
by  his  friends  that  the  next  time  the  man  insulted  him, 
he  should  send  him  a  challenge,  and  that  the  second* 


I 


182 


should  load  both  the  rifles, — for  they  were  to  fight 
with  rifles, — with  blank  cartridges.  The  opposite 
party  was  not  to  be  in  the  secret,  and  the  joke  was 
to  watch  his  eye,  and  see  if  it  did  not  blench.  The 
challenge  was  sent,  and  the  seconds  on  both  sides 
made  a  solemn  contract  with  each  other,  that  both  the 
guns  should  be  loaded  with  blank  cartridges.  The 
young  attorney  went  out  to  watch  the  eye  of  his  an- 
tagonist and  to  enjoy  the  joke.  The  parties  met,  dis- 
charged, and  the  attorney  fell  with  two  rifle-bullets 
through  his  heart.  The  wretch  who  was  second  for 
his  antagonist,  had  violated  his  stipulation,  and  had 
loaded  the  rifle  with  two  bullets.  An  amiable  young 
woman  was  left  a  widow  with  one  orphan  babe.  The 
wretches  were  both  arrested,  confined,  broke  jail  and 
fled, — -the  principal  to  the  remote  points  of  Red  Riv- 
er, whence  he  returned  after  three  years  to  Illinois, 
was  arrested,  and  I  hope  executed,  though  I  am  igno- 
rant of  the  fact. 

Though  too  many  leading  men  in  the  country  on 
the  Mississippi  advocate  duelling,  there  is  evidently, 
with  the  increasing  progress  of  moral  ideas  and  of 
knowledge,  an  increasing  sense  of  the  abomination  of 
duelling,  even  in  this  region.  Kentucky  has  taken  an 
honourable  position  against  the  barbarous  practice,  in 
the  enactment  of  a  law,  requiring  an  oath  on  the  part 
of  any  man  qualifying  himself  for  any  office  of  trust 
or  election,  that  he  has  not  given  or  accepted  a  chal- 
lenge for  a  certain  number  of  years.  It  has  the  desir- 
ed effect  to  restrain  duels,  in  a  state  where  they  used 
to  be  common.  Public  opinion  is  every  where  gather- 
ing strength  against  it,  and  the  time,  I  trust,  will  soon 
be,  when,  instead  of  its  being  blazoned,  that  a  can- 
didate for  office  has  slain  his  man,  it  will  operate  as  an 


183 


impediment  to  his  views,  and  this  stain  upon  humanity 
will  no  longer  disgrace  the  country. 

Missouri  and  Illinois  have  imported  from  abroad 
many  men  respectable  for  their  talents  and  acquire- 
ments. Many  more  have  come  here  from  abroad,  ex- 
pecting to  eclipse  every  thing  of  brightness  that  was 
already  in  the  country,  and  who  have  very  unexpect- 
edly found  themselves  eclipsed.  Of  the  itinerant 
preachers,  I  did  not  hear  one  who  approached  to  me- 
diocrity. They  may  have  been  pious  men,  but,  for  the 
most  part,  they  defy  all  criticism.  I  heard  one  gen- 
tleman, who  was  for  a  while  esteemed  a  great  orator 
at  St.  Louis,  twice  use  a  figure,  which  I  think  Swift 
would  have  selected,  as  a  fine  example  of  bathos. 
Speaking  of  the  love  of  God,  as  naturally  raising  the 
soul  to  the  object  of  that  love,  he  illustrated  the  idea, 
by  saying  that  the  stream  would  always  rise  as  high 
as  the  fountain.  He  added,  that  every  lady  had  an 
explanation  of  this  fact  before  her,  wrhen  she  saw  the 
water  rising  as  high  in  the  nose,  as  in  the  body  of  the 
teapot !  I  heard  him  quote  Greek  to  the  Missourians, 
and  his  knowledge  of  Greek  was  of  a  piece  with  the 
figure  of  the  teapot. 

I  heard  the  Rev.  Dr.  B.  the  favourite  orator  of  Ten- 
nessee, preach.  I  would  not  wish  to  laud  him  in  the 
same  affected  strain,  with  the  encomiums  of  the  blind 
minister  of  Virginia.  But  he  is  certainly  an  extraor- 
dinary man  in  his  way.  His  first  appearance  is 
against  him,  indicating  a  rough  and  uncouth  man. 
He  uses  many  low  words,  and  images  and  illustra- 
tions in  bad  taste.  But  perhaps,  when  you  are  get- 
ting tired,  almost  disgusted,  every  thing  is  reversed  in 
a  moment.  He  flashes  upon  you.  You  catch  his  eye 
and  you  follow  him  ;  he  bursts  upon  you  in  a  glow  of 


184 


feeling  and  pathos,  leaving  you  not  sufficiently  cool 
to  criticise.  We  may  affect  to  decry  the  talent  of 
moving  the  inmost  affections.  After  all,  I  am  inclined 
to  think  it  the  most  important  qualification,  which  a 
minister  can  possess.  He  possesses  this  in  an  eminent 
degree.  He  has  the  electric  eye,  the  thrilling  tones,  the 
unction,  the  feeling,  the  universal  language  of  passion 
and  nature,  which  is  equally  understood  and  felt  by  all 
people.  He  has  evidently  been  richly  endowed  by  na- 
ture ;  but  his  endowments  owe  little  to  discipline  or 
education. 

There  are  a  few  preachers  here,  plain  men,  of  sound 
instruction  and  good  sense,  who  are  respected  for  these 
qualifications,  but  are  not  popular  as  orators.  These 
men  are  from  New  England,  and  formed  on  the  mod- 
els of  that  country.  They  have,  also,  some  acute  law- 
yers at  the  bar.  It  struck  me  as  being  superior  to 
that  of  Ohio.  The  first  lawyer,  when  I  arrived  in  the 
country,  was  E.  H.  Esq.,  a  man  unlettered,  but  of 
strong  sense,  and  it  was  said  by  competent  judges,  a 
great  special  pleader.  He  had  a  kind  of  sharp,  fierce, 
and  barking  manner  of  speaking,  which  had  such  an 
effect  to  awe  the  jury,  and  had  become  so  popular, 
that  it  descended  to  the  bar,  as  his  mantle,  after  he 
was  dead.  Often  have  I  heard  young  and  incom- 
petent lawyers,  attempting  to  catch  the  bark  of  E.  H. 

Col.  B.,  well  known  in  another  place,  has  since  been 
supreme  at  the  bar.  He  is  acute,  laboured,  florid, 
rather  sophomorical,  to  use  our  word,  but  a  man  of 
strong  sense.  There  flashes  "  strange  fire  ??  from  his 
eye,  and  all  that  he  does  "  smells  of  the  lamp." 
There  was  a  young  gentleman,  Mr.  B.,  who  gave 
strong  promise  of  future  excellence.  He  was  the  on- 
ly member  of  the  bar,  whom  I  heard  plead,  that  show- 


185 

ed  in  his  manner  the  fruit  of  classical  taste  and  dis- 
cipline. He  was  happy  in  his  arrangement  and  choice 
of  words,  and  concise  and  coi densed  ;  and  had  a 
suavity  in  his  manner.  But  these  things  were  too  of- 
ten thrown  away  upon  the  jury  in  a  region,  where 
noise  and  flourish  are  generally  mistaken  for  sense  and 
reason. 

The  people  here  are  not  yet  a  reading  people. 
Few  good  books  are  brought  into  the  country.  The 
few  literary  men  that  are  here,  seeing  nothing  to 
excite  or  reward  their  pursuits,  seeing  other  objects 
exclusively  occupy  all  minds,  soon  catch  the  prevail- 
ing feeling.  The  people  are  too  busy,  too  much  oc- 
cupied in  making  farms  and  speculations,  to  think  of 
literature. 

America  inherits,  I  believe,  from  England  a  taste 
for  puffing.  She  has  improved  upon  her  model.  In 
your  quarter,  as  well  as  here,  the  people  are  idolaters 
to  the  "  golden  calves."  Some  favourite  man,  fash- 
ion, or  opinion,  sweep  every  thing  before  them.  This 
region  is  the  paradise  of  puffers.  One  puffs  up,  and 
another  down.  As  you  draw  near  the  influence  of  the 
"  lord  of  the  ascendant,'7  you  will  find  opinions  grad- 
uated to  his  dicta.  The  last  stranger  that  arrives  from 
Kentucky,  or  the  Atlantic  country,  is  but  poorly  intro- 
duced to  his  new  residence,  if  he  have  not  one  of  these 
great  men  to  puff  a  breeze  in  the  sail  of  his  skiff,  as 
he  puts  himself  afloat. 

I  have  been  amused  in  reading  puffing  advertise- 
ments in  the  newspapers.  A  little  subscription  school, 
in  which  half  the  pupils  are  abecedarians,  is  a  col- 
lege. One  is  a  Lancastrian  school,  or  a  school  of 
"instruction  mutuelle."  There  is  the  Pestalozzi  es- 
tablishment, with  its  appropriate  emblazoning.  There 
24 


) 

186  ' 

is  the  agricultural  school,  the  missionary  school,  the 
grammar  box,  the  new  way  to  make  a  wit  of  a  dunce 
in  six  lessons,  and  all  the  mechanical  ways  of  inocula- 
ting children  with  learning,  that  they  may  not  endure 
the  pain  of  getting  it  in  the  old  and  natural  way.  I 
would  not  have  you  smile  exclusively  at  the  people  of 
the  West.  This  ridiculous  species  of  swindling  is  ma- 
king as  much  progress  in  your  country  as  here.  The 
misfortune  is,  that  these  vile  pretensions  finally  induce 
the  people  to  believe,  that  there  is  a  6i  royal  road  "  {o 
learning.  The  old  and  beaten  track,  marked  out  by 
the  only  sure  guide,  experience,  is  forsaken.  The 
parents  are  flattered,  deceived,  and  swindled.  Puffing 
pretenders  take  the  place  of  the  modest  man  of  science, 
who  scorns  to  compete  with  him  in  these  vile  arts. 
The  children  have  1  heir  brains  distended  with  the 
"east  wind/*  and  grow  up  at  once  empty  and  con- 
ceited. 

These  founders  of  new  schools,  for  the  most  part, 
advertise  themselves  from  London,  Paris,  Philadelphia, 
New  York,  Boston,  and  have  all  performed  exploits 
in  the  regions  whence  they  came,  and  bring  the  latest 
improvements  with  them.  As  to  what  they  can  do, 
and  what  they  will  do,  the  object  is  to  lay  on  the  col- 
ouring thick  and  threefold.  A  respectable  man  wish- 
es to  establish  himself  in  a  school .  in  those  regions. 
He  consults  a  friend,  who  knows  the  meridian  of  the 
country.  The  advice  is,  Call  your  school  by  some  new 
and  imposing  name.  Let  it  be  understood,  that  you 
have  a  new  way  of  instructing  children,  by  which 
they  can  learn  twice  as  much,  in  half  the  time,  as  by 
the  old  ways.  Throw  off  all  modesty.  Move  the 
water,  and  get  in  while  it  is  moving.  In  short,  de- 
pend upon  the  gullibility  of  the  people.    A  school, 


187 


modelled  on  this  advice,  was  instituted  at  St.  Louis, 
while  I  was  there,  with  a  very  imposing  name.  The 
masters, — professors,  I  should  say, — proposed  to  teach 
most  of  the  languages,  and  all  the  sciences.  Hebrew 
they  would  communicate  in  twelve  lessons ;  Latin 
and  Greek,  with  a  proportionate  promptness.  These 
men,  who  were  to  teach  all  this  themselves,  had  read 
Erasmus  with  a  translation,  and  knew  the  Greek  al- 
phabet, and  in  their  public  discourses, — for  they  were 
ministers, — sometimes  dealt  very  abusively  with  the 
"  king's  English. " 

Town-making  introduces  another  species  of  puffing. 
Art  and  ingenuity  have  been  exhausted  in  devising 
new  ways  of  alluring  purchasers,  to  take  lots  and 
build  in  the  new  town.  There  are  the  fine  rivers,  the 
healthy  hills,  the  mineral  springs,  the  clear  running 
water,  the  eligible  mill-seats,  the  valuable  forests,  the 
quarries  of  building-stone,  the  fine  steam-boat  navi- 
gation, the  vast  country  adjacent,  the  central  positon, 
the  connecting  point  between  the  great  towns,  the  ad- 
mirable soil,  and  last  of  all  the  cheerful  and  undoubt- 
ing  predictions  of  what  the  town  must  oue  day  be.  I 
have  read  more  than  an  hundred  advertisements  of 
this  sort.  Then  the  legislature  must  be  tampered 
with,  in  order  to  make  the  town  either  the  metropolis, 
or  at  least  the  seat  of  justice.  In  effect,  we  were 
told  that  in  Illinois,  two  influential  men,  who  both  had 
Tadmors  to  be  upreared,  took  a  hand  of  cards,  to  as- 
certain which  should  resign  his  pretensions  to  legisla- 
tive aid  in  building  his  town,  in  favour  of  the  other. 

A  coarse  caricature  of  this  abomination  of  town- 
making,  appeared  in  the  St.  Louis  papers.  The 
name  was  u  Ne  plus  ultra."  The  streets  were  laid 
out  a  mile  in  width  ;  the  squares  were  to  be  sections, 


188 

each  containing  six  hundred  and  forty  acres.  The 
mall  was  a  vast  standing  forest.  In  the  centre  of  this 
modern  Babylon,  roads  were  to  cross  each  other  in  a 
meridional  line  at  right  angles,  one  from  the  south 
pole  to  Symmes's  hole  in  the  north,  and  another  from 
Pekin  to  Jerusalem. 

In  truth,  while  travelling  on  the  prairies  of  the  Illi- 
nois and  Missouri,  and  observing  such  immense  tracts 
of  rich  soil,  of  the  blackness  of  ink,  and  of  exhaust- 
less  fertility, — remarking  the  beautiful  simplicity  of 
the  limits  of  farms,  introduced  by  our  government,  in 
causing  the  land  to  be  all  surveyed  in  exact  squares, 
and  thus  destroying  here  the  barbarous  prescription, 
which  has  in  the  settled  countries  laid  out  the  lands  in 
ugly  farms,  and  bounded  them  by  zigzag  lines, — con- 
templating the  hedge  of  verdure  that  will  bound  the 
squares  on  these  smooth  and  fertile  plains, — remarking 
the  beauty  of  the  orchards  and  improvements,  that 
must  ensue, — being  convinced  that  the  climate  will 
grow  salubrious  with  its  population  and  improve- 
ment—seeing the  guardian  genius,  Liberty,  hovering 
over  the  country, — measuring  the  progress  of  the  fu- 
ture, only  by  the  analogy  of  the  past, — it  will  be 
difficult  for  the  imagination  to  assign  limits  to  the 
future  growth  and  prosperity  of  the  country.  Per- 
haps on  one  of  these  boundless  plains,  and  contigu- 
ous to  some  one  of  these  noble  rivers,  in  view  of  these 
hoary  bluffs,  and  where  all  these  means  of  the  subsist- 
ence and  multiplication  of  the  species  are  concentered 
in  such  ample  abundance,  will  arise  the  actual  "  Ne 
plus  ultra."  On  looking  at  the  astonishing  change, 
which  the  last  ten  years  have  introduced  over  the 
whole  face  of  the  United  States,  and  anticipating  the 
change  of  a  century,  I  have  sometimes  found  the  fa- 


189 


mous  wish  of  Franklin  stealing  into  my  mind,  with 
respect  to  the  interesting  country  which  I  am  de- 
scribing. 

LETTER  XVIII.— ST.  CHARLES. 

I  will  here  attempt  to  give  you  some  of  the  inci- 
dents of  my  ministerial  life,  and  a  very  brief  chroni- 
cle of  family  events,  during  the  five  years  which  I 
spent  in  this  region,  before  we  descended  to  the  Ar- 
kansas. In  the  first  year  of  my  residence,  1  arranged , 
my  places  of  worship,  and  made  acquaintances  with 
families  disposed  to  aid  me  in  my  pursuits.  Feeble, 
infirm,  and  worn  down  as  I  am  with  the  labours  of 
the  past,  and  beginning  to  find  that  it  is  necessary 
rather  to  live  and  find  enjoyment  in  the  remem- 
brances of  the  past,  than  in  the  hopes  of  the  future, 
as  it  respects  this  life,  I  delight  to  call  to  remem- 
brance the  amiable  families  with  which  I  have  been 
acquainted,  and  the  happy  days  that  I  have  spent  in 
this  remote  and  sequestered  world.  I  love  to  remem- 
ber how  I  arrived  late  in  the  evening  in  view  of  a 
group  of  cabins,  seen  by  their  cheerful  fires,  blazing 
among  the  trees,  or  across  the  plains.  My  approach 
was  uniformly  greeted  by  the  cry  of  a  numerous  pack 
of  dogs,  who,  however,  after  the  first  meeting,  would 
fawn  round  me,  and  give  me  their  welcome  in  advance 
of  their  master's.  The  eye  of  a  stranger  would  see 
but  little  in  the  picture  before  me,  but  solitude  and  sav- 
,  ageness,  filth  and  hunger.  A  hundred  recollections 
crowd  upon  me,  of  such  asylums  affording  the  most 
affectionate  welcome,  cheerful  and  cordial  conversa- 
tion, unrepressed  by  ceremony  or  pride,  excellent 


J  90 


coffee  (the  true  nectar  in  such  a  place),  substantial 
and  good  fare  of  all  kinds,  a  clean  bed,  and  refresh- 
ing slumbers.  And  the  charm  of  cordial  and  endear- 
ed society  has  a  zest  in  the  solitudes  of  Missouri, 
where  one  would  scarce  expect  to  find  it,  which  it 
has  not  in  crowded  cities,  where  it  ought  to  be  a 
common  commodity.  I  could  name  many  excellent 
families,  where  I  found  such  society.  They  were  con- 
tent to  have  their  abundance,  to  practise  their  vir- 
tues, and  to  give  themselves  to  hospitality  without 
seeking  notoriety,  and  they  would  not  wish  their 
names  recorded.  I  remember  among  my  happiest 
days,  those  which  I  spent  with  these  people. 

I  feel  an  oppression  of  heart,  though  it  be  from 
gratitude,  almost  painful,  as  I  remember  our  reception 
by  two  families  in  the  "  Point/5  below  St.  Charles, 
after  the  return  of  my  family  from  the  Arkansas,  and 
before  wTe  descended  to  the  lower  country.  I  may 
best  relate  it  here,  and  I  should  do  injustice  to  my 
feelings  and  to  truth,  if  I  did  not  relate  it.  If  these 
simple  annals  should  ever  reach  them,  they  will  know 
to  whom  I  refer,  and  they  will  be  assured  that  my 
grateful  feelings  will  only  end  with  my  life.  Five  of 
my  family, — myself  and  Mrs.  F.  among  them, — imme- 
diately on  our  return  from  the  lower  country,  were 
taken  with  the  fever  of  the  country  in  one  day.  We 
had  not  yet  taken  a  house,  and  seized  with  this  fever, 
we  were  utterly  incapable  of  making  any  arrangements. 
We  were  sick,  and  "  they  took  us  in."  We  were 
scattered  in  different  houses.  Mrs.  F.  parted  with 
an  infant  babe  from  the  breast,  which  in  the  parox- 
ysm of  fever  no  longer  yielded  its  supplies.  The 
families  where  we  were  lodged,  were  aware  that  in  their 
houses,  they  could  not  furnish  exactly  the  comforts 


191 


for  the  sick,  to  which  we  had  been  used.  But  in  as- 
siduity and  sympathy,  they  more  than  made  up  this 
deficiency.  Self-respect  forbids  me  to  blazon  some 
of  the  circumstances  of  our  suffering  during  that  long 
and  dreary  period.  1  was  unconscious  for  days  to- 
gether. In  the  height  of  my  fever,  and  while  as  yet 
unable  to  Ajse  myself  in  bed,  circumstances  compel- 
led me  to  be  removed  on  a  carriage  to  a  distance  of 
>six  miles.  ~  We  had  not  even  the  poor  comfort  of  suf- 
fering together.  Our  fever  lasted  forty  days.  To 
Mrs.  F  and  myself  the  ague  supervened,  after  the 
fever  was* at  an  end.  I  suffered  from  fever  and  ague 
sixty  days|  In  this  deplorable  situation  we  found  the 
kindest  reception.  Sick  as  we  were,  and  probable 
as  the  prospect  was,  that  some  of  us  would  add  the 
trouble  of  funeral  rites  and  duties  to  the  labour  and 
cares  of  nursing  us,  they  never  remitted  their  kind- 
ness for  a  moment ;  and  thanks  to  the  great  Physician, 
we  lived  to  bless  them,  and  repay  them  every  thing 
but  the  due  amount  of  gratitude.  The  names  of 
these  benefactors  I  am  not  permitted  to  record.  But 
their  kindness  ought  to  be  recorded,  in  proof  that 
there  is  kindness  and  sympathy  with  distress,  and 
christian  feeling,  in  the  prairies  of  Missouri.  How 
often  have  unhappy  associations  induced  us  to  think 
of  people,  as  ignorant  and  barbarous,  because  they 
lived  in  such  a  region !  There  are  generous  hearts 
and  there  are  elevated  minds  every  where.  How 
often,  while  thinking  of  these  families,  to  whom  we 
owe  so  much,  have  I  remembered  Gray's  beautiful 
verses ; — "  Full  many  a  gem,  "  &c. 

Many  of  these  families, — where  I  most  frequently 
sojourned  for  five  years, —  were  to  me  almost  "the 
same  as  the  more  endeared  families  of  my  native 


192 


country.  Many  of  these  remembrances  are  delightful 
to  me,  and  variegate  the  general  gloom  cast  over  that 
period  by  sickness  and  suffering.  These  interchanges 
of  kindness  between  me  and  this  people,  whom  in  this 
world  I  expect  to  see  no  more,  are  written,  I  doubt 
not,  in  a  more  durabJe  and  high  record,  than  the  frail 
tablet  of  human  memory.  Of  one  family, — among 
the  dearest  to  my  remembrance,  and  one  of  the  best 
samples  of  a  Missouri  planter,  in  the  middle  walks  of 
life, — I  may  be  allowed  to  speak  with  more  particular- 
ity. The  father,  the  mother,  the  daughter,  are  gone. 
The  orphans  that  remain,  are  as  yet  incapable  of  com- 
prehending the  contents  of  this  page.  They  resided 
in  Bonhomme,  about  twelve  miles  from  St.  Louis, 
and  near  the  deep  bottom  of  the  Missouri. 

The  greater  part  of  the  large  settlement  in  which 
they  lived,  is  located  on  a  tract  of  undulating  country, 
of  a  very  curious  surface.  It  is  neither  prairie  nor 
woodland,  but  a  compound  of  both.  It  is  intersected 
with  numerous  spring-branches,  around  which  there 
are  always  found  clumps  of  trees.  Unlike  the  prairies 
in  general,  the  surface  of  the  untimbered  lands  is  cov- 
ered with  shrubbery  of  different  kinds.  I  have  re- 
marked here  a  most  singular  and  pleasing  landscape 
in  the  spring.  At  a  period  so  early  that  the  general 
aspect  is  a  brown  surface  of  bushes  and  grass,  you 
will  here  and  there  see  a  beautiful  flowering  shrub, 
that  has  felt  the  influence  of  the  spring.  The  flow7ers 
were  of  two  classes,  w7hite  and  crimson.  Some  of  the 
trees,  in  the  same  manner,  were  just  beginning  to  un- 
fold their  foliage  and  flowers,  affording  a  fine  contrast 
with  those  trees  that  had  still  the  hue  of  winter.  On 
these  elevated  plains,  the  regular  lines  of  the  farming 
enclosures,  in  square  forms,  striped  here  and  there 


193 


with  the  bright  and  tender  verdure  of  the  springing 
wheat,  afforded  the  most  charming  contrast  with  the 
surrounding  brown  of  the  heathy  plain.  In  the  dis- 
tance, these  square  enclosures  of  verdure,  amidst  this 
brown,  so  diminished  to  the  eye,  have  the  appearance 
of  having  been  painted  for  landscapes.  The  effect 
of  social  labour  never  struck  me  more  forcibly  than 
in  the  plantation  of  Mr.  Jamieson,  the  bead  of  the 
.family  in  question,  as  I  saw  it  for  the  first  time,  when 
just  emerging  from  the  deep  bottom  of  the  Missouri, 
and  at  the  distance  of  three  miles.  The  fields,  though 
extensive  and  beautiful,  had  been  but  recently  won 
from  the  heath.  No  verdure  ever  seemed  more  lively? 
than  the  oblong  strips  of  wheat  and  rye,  which  had  at- 
tained the  height  of  six  inches.  It  was  before  any 
other  vegetation  diversified  the  solemn  brown  of  the 
heath,  except  the  dog- wood  with  its  pure  white,  and 
the  red-bud  with  its  beautiful  red  blossoms. 

Just  on  the  edge  of  these  fields,  six  cabins  were  oc- 
cupied by  the  family,  its  servants,  and  establishments, 
which,  seen  in  the  distance,  had  the  appearance  of  so 
many  bee-hives.  The  family  was  from  western  Vir- 
ginia, or  that  part  of  the  state  which  lies  west  of  the 
mountains,  and  was  of  Scotch  descent.  It  consisted 
of  the  husband,  wife,  and  six  children  ;  and  a  group 
of  more  beautiful  children  I  have  never  seen.  The 
parents  were  hospitable  and  courteous;  and  had  seen 
society  enough  to  know  its  forms,  but  not  of  that  sort 
to  render  them  affected  or  fastidious.  The  piety  of 
these  amiable  people  was  not  often  blazoned  in  their 
conversation,  but  was  sober,  constant,  pervading  their 
family  management  and  their  conversation.  It  seem- 
ed a  living  principle.  The  stranger  came  in,  and  was 
so  welcomed  as  to  feel  himself  at  home.  The  circle 
25 


194 


that  assembled  round  their  evening  fire,  entered  into 
conversations,  that  were  cordial  and  exhilirating, 
The  fare,  too,  was  such  in  all  respects, — although  fur- 
nished in  a  cabin, — as  is  not  often  found  in  more 
sumptuous  dwellings.  In  this  house  I  have  passed 
many  pleasant  days. 

Whenever  the  name  of  the  eldest  daughter  is  men- 
tioned in  my  family,  a  visible  gloom  comes  over  their 
countenances.  She  was  long  a  pupil  in  my  family. 
From  the  first  of  her  residence  with  us,  she  was  an 
object  of  general  attention,  for  she  was  beautiful,  the 
rose  of  the  prairie,  and  she  was  at  the  most  interest- 
ing period  of  life,  and  she  was  gay,  and  untamed  in 
the  possession  of  an  uncontrolled  flow  of  spirits,  and 
as  buoyant  as  the  fawn  of  her  own  prairie.  The  reg- 
ulations of  a  religious  family  in  that  region,  differ 
widely  from  ours.  When  she  first  resided  with  us, 
she  was  disposed  to  consider  our  rules  as  odious,  and 
our  restrictions  as  tyranny.  But  in  the  progress  of 
her  studies,  and  of  more  mature  acquaintance,  she  be- 
came tranquil,  satisfied,  and  studious,  exhibiting  an 
affectionate  submission,  that  endeared  her  to  us  all. 
She  soon  became  to  me,  as  one  of  my  children.  A 
conversation,  which  I  had  with  her,  during  that  se- 
vere sickness,  which  I  have  mentioned,  will  long  be 
remembered  in  my  family.  Contrary  to  all  our  expec- 
tations, I  recovered,  and  had  the  satisfaction  to  see  the 
pensive  thoughtfulness,  that  had  long  been  gathering 
on  her  brow,  assume  the  form  of  piety  and  religion. 
When  we  were  about  to  depart  from  that  region  for 
the  Arkansas,  her  parting  from  my  family  was  affect- 
ionate and  solemn.  I  crossed  the  Missouri  with  her, 
and  listened  with  delight  to  her  views,  her  resolutions, 
and  the  plans  which  she  proposed  for  her  future  life, 


195 


You  will  believe,  that  they  were  not  the  less  interest- 
ing to  me,  for  being  seasoned  with  a  spice  of  romance. 
But  she  laid  down,  as  the  outline,  the  steady  and  un- 
alterable guidance  of  religion.  The  counsels  which 
I  gave  her,  as  we  were  crossing  the  stream,  were  of 
course  paternal  and  affectionate,  for  I  expected  to  meet 
her  no  more.  The  ferryman  was  a  flippant  and  un- 
feeling Frenchman,  who  understood  not  a  word  of  our 
conversation,  but  marking  her  tears,  concluded  I  was 
scolding  her.  He  had  a  saucy  frankness  of  taking 
every  one  to  account,  and  when  I  returned,  he  began 
to  chide  me  for  scolding  such  a  beautiful  girl.  "  Vous 
etes  ministre  Protestant,"  said  he,  "  c'est  une  religion 
tres  seche,  tres  dure.  Nous  autres  Catholiques  n'avons 
pas  cceurs  faites  comme  9a  !  "  As  he  understood  it, 
I  had  been  giving  her  stern  lessons,  and  harsh  coun- 
sels, which  had  been  the  cause  of  her  tears. 

Why  should  I  refrain  from  giving  a  few  more  details 
of  this  interesting  young  woman,  through  fear  that 
this  page  should  take  the  form  of  a  romance.  You 
have  repeatedly  pressed  upon  me,  to  go  boldly  and 
minutely  into  the  history  of  all  that  I  have  seen,  en- 
joyed, or  suffered.  My  mind  and  my  memory  sug- 
gest in  the  case  of  this  young  person,  so  dear  to  my 
family,  far  more  than  I  shall  relate,  and  instead  of 
wishing  to  colour,  I  shall  be  obliged  to  touch  only  the 
remaining  incidents  of  her  short  career.  There  resid- 
ed in  her  father's  family  a  very  respectable  young 
man.  He  was  rather  silent  and  reserved  in  his  man- 
ners, but  thinking,  intelligent,  and  of  a  very  different 
cast  from  the  young  men  in  his  vicinity.  Still,  he  was 
not  exactly  calculated  to  win  the  affections  of  a 
beautiful  young  woman,  in  whose  mind  there  was, 
perhaps,  but  one  obliquity,  and  that  had  been  caused 


196 


by  the  perusal  of  the  novels  of  the  day.    He  was  not 
her  hero,  her  "  beau  ideal."    We  knew  his  worth.  We 
knew  his  true  and  honourable  affection,  truly  and  hon- 
ourably expressed.    He  was  in  a  respectable  employ- 
ment, and  looked  to  the  very  lucrative  and  respectable 
office,  which  he  has  since  held  in  the  country  of  St. 
Louis.    Mrs.  F.,  w  ho  knew  the  wishes  of  her  parents, 
laboured  the  point  with  her,  that  the  prospect  of  good 
sense,  fidelity,  tried  affection,  and  honourable  support, 
were  the  best  guarantees  of  happiness  in  the  wed- 
ded state.    It  was  not  easy  to  dispel  the  day-dreams, 
which  she  had  fostered  from  the  idle  reading  of  the 
day.    But  with  the  growing   influence  of  religion, 
there  grew  up  also  more  sober  and  just  surveys  of 
life  and  its  duties,  and  a  stronger  wish  to  gratify  her 
parents  in  the  first  desire  of  their  hearts.    She  was 
engaged  to  this  young  man,  and  on  my  return  with 
my  family  from  Arkansas,  I  heard  with  great  pleasure 
that  she  was  shortly  to  reward  his  honourable  and 
persevering  attachment,  with  her  hand.    The  wed- 
ding day  was  fixed,  and  all  was  sober  expectation  of 
tranquillity  and  happiness.    The  charming  and  en- 
deared eldest  daughter  was  to  be  fixed  near  the  plan- 
tation of  her  father.    Another  square,  with  its  com- 
partments of  verdure,  was  to  be  struck  out  of  the 
brown  of  the  heath.    I  envy  no  man,  if  it  be  not  the 
father  that  so  settles  beloved  children  around  him. 
This  young  man,  in  view  of  his  prospects,  probably 
envied  no  man.     She  was  suddenly  seized  with  one 
of  the  terrible  fevers  of  the  country,  which  riot  so  fatal- 
ly in  a  frame  so  elastic  and  healthful  as  hers.  It 
ought  to  cheer  us,  that  we  may  lay  hold  of  a  resource, 
which  will  enable  us  to  triumph  over  human  passions 
and  fears,  over  love  and  death.    The  sincerity  of  her 
religion  was  tested  in  this  way. 


197 


She  called  her  lover  to  her  bed,  and  took  of  him  the 
tenderest  parting.  She  sang  with  the  family  the  sim- 
B  pie,  but  sweet  hymn,  so  common  in  that  country,  and 
in  which  she  delighted  when  in  health  :  u  The  day 
is  past  and  gone/'  &c.  She  bade  them  fareweil,  and 
closed  her  eyes  in  peace  upon  all  the  joyful  prospects 
that  were  opening  before  her.  Circumstance  s,  not 
necessary  to  detail,  compelled  them  to  make  her  bri- 
dal dress  her  shroud.  The  father,  the  mother  soon 
followed  this  daughter,  too  dearly  loved,  too  deeply 
lamented.  I  have  been  in  view  of  this  desolate  hab- 
itation, but  I  have  not  wished  to  enter  it.  I  have  felt 
more  intensely  than  ever,  as  I  saw  these  cabins  again, 
the  pathetic  close  of  the  story  of  "  Paul  and  Virgin- 
ia." 

During  the  first  autumn  of  my  residence  in  St. 
Charles,  it  began  to  be  a  fashionable  trip  for  people, 
who  had  imbibed  the  prevailing  notions  of  the  beauty 
and  advantages  of  this  country,  to  visit  it.  We  enter- 
tained many  respectable  strangers  from  Virginia,  the 
Carolinas,  and  Kentucky.  During  the  visits  of  these 
gentlemen,  my  two  young  children  were  ill  of  bilious 
fever.  The  autumn  was  delightfully  mild,  and  loaded 
with  fruits  and  grain,  even  in  regions  where  they  had 
scarcely  had  rain  enough,  from  planting  to  harvest, 
to  prevent  the  husbandmen  from  labouring  in  the  fields. 
This  country  differs  essentially  from  that  of  the  At- 
lantic, in  being  much  less  subject  to  rains, — in  its  being 
in  fact  a  very  dry  country.  But,  such  is  the  freshness 
and  richness  of  the  soil,  and  its  capability  of  resisting 
drought,  that  if  once  the  corn  and  wheat  can  be  ger- 
minated so  as  to  come  up,  they  are  sure  of  a  crop. 

Among  these  visiters  to  the  country  w*is  Judge 
Tucker,  a  very  respectable  gentleman  of  high  political 


198 

standing,  from  Virginia.  He  brought  with  him  a  num- 
ber of  the  most  respectable  people  from  Carolina  and 
Kentucky ;  the  families  of  Naylor  and  Coneter.  Their 
imaginations  were  warmed  by  the  striking  appearance 
of  a  country  so  beautiful,  and  so  unlike  the  Atlantic 
countries,  and  they  seemed  to  feel  upon  the  subject  all 
the  ardour  and  freshness  of  youthful  poets.  Longer 
and  more  practical  acquaintance  with  this  land  of 
promise  has  taught  these  amiable  and  opulent  people, 
that  evils  of  all  sorts  can  exist  in  the  most  beautiful 
countries,  and  that  physical  advantages  are  but  a  poor 
compensation  for  the  loss  of  moral  ones. 

During  the  first  winter  and  all  the  second  and  third 
years  of  my  residence  here,  the  rage  for  speculating  in 
their  lands  was  at  the  highest.  No  Jews  were  ever 
more  greedy  to  accumulate  money.  I  have  often  been 
at  collections,  where  lands  were  at  sale  for  taxes  and 
by  orders  of  court,  and  at  other  times,  where  there 
were  voluntary  sales  at  auction.  The  zeal  to  purchase 
amounted  to  a  fever.  There  were  no  arts,  to  which 
resort  was  not  had  to  cry  up  and  cry  down.  Land 
speculators  constituted  a  particular  party.  It  re- 
quired prodigious  efforts  to  become  adroit.  The  spec- 
ulators had  a  peculiar  kind  of  slang  dialect,  appropriate 
to  their  profession,  and  when  they  walked  about  it  was 
with  an  air  of  solemn  thoughtfulness  upon  their  coun- 
tenances as  though  they  were  the  people,  and  wisdom 
would  die  with  them.  The  surveyors  of  course  were 
very  important  instruments  in  this  business,  and  a  great 
and  fortunate  land-speculator  and  land-holder  was 
looked  up  to  with  as  much  veneration  by  the  people,  as 
any  partner  in  the  house  of  Hope  in  London,  or  Gray 
in  America.  I  question,  if  the  people  of  Missouri 
generally  thought  there  existed  higher  objects  of  envy* 


199 


than  Choteau  and  a  few  other  great  land-holders  of  tha£ 
class.  A  very  large  tract  of  land  was  cried  by  the 
sheriff  for  sale,  when  I  was  present,  and  the  only  limits 
and  bounds  given  were,  that  it  was  thirty  miles  north  of 
St.  Louis.  A  general  laugh  ran  through  the  crowd  as- 
sembled at  the  court-house  door.  But  a  purchaser 
soon  appeared,  who  bid  off  the  tract  thirty  miles 
north  of  St.  Louis,  undoubtedly  with  a  view  to  sell  it 
to  some  more  greedy  speculator  than  himself. 

There  were  people  who  offered  immense  tracts  of 
land,  the  titles  to  which  were  contingent,  and  only  in 
prospect.  Often  the  same  tract  was  offered  for  sale  by 
two  and  even  three  claimants.  The  whole  county  of 
St.  Charles,  containing  a  number  of  thousands  of  in- 
habitants, was  offered  for  sale,  by  what  was  called  the 
Glamorgan  claim,  and  thirteen  hundred  dollars  were 
paid  on  the  spot  for  the  claim.  But  it  is  not  my  in- 
tention to  dip  into  the  gulph  of  land-claims,  settle- 
ment-rights, preemption-rights,  Spanish  grants,  con- 
firmed claims,  unconfirmed  claims,  and  New  Madrid 
claims.  The  discussion,  the  investigation  of  these 
claims,  the  comparative  value  of  them,  the  vaunting  of 
the  mill-streams  on  the  one,  the  range  and  the  proba- 
ble advantages  of  another,  the  prospect  of  confirma- 
tion of  the  unconfirmed  titles,  the  expectations  of  one 
from  the  eloquence  of  the  members  of  congress  who 
would  espouse  the  interest  of  his  claim,  of  another  from 
his  determined  and  declared  purpose  to  carry  his 
claims  by  bribery, — conversation  upon  these  points 
made  up  the  burden  of  the  song  in  all  social  meetings. 
They  were  like  the  weather  in  other  countries,  stand- 
ing and  perpetual  topics  of  conversation.  Nor  let  the 
inhabitant  of  the  Atlantic  cities  suppose  that  these 
were  without  an  intense  interest.    Families  were  con- 


stantly  arriving,  many  of  them  polite  and  well-inform- 
ed, and  they  were  going  on  to  these  tracts,  which, 
portrayed  by  the  interested  surveyors  and  specula- 
tors, and  as  yet  partially  explored  and  possessing 
much  of  the  interest  of  unknown  regions,  were  to  be 
their  home. 

The  first  months  of  the  life  of  a  family,  that  seats  it- 
self in  these  remote  solitudes,  have  a  charm  of  romance 
thrown  over  them,  which,  alas !  more  intimate  acquain- 
tance is  but  too  sure  to  dispel.  Never  have  I  seen 
countenances  suffused  with  more  interest  or  eagerness, 
than  in  circles  of  this  description,  where  the  compara- 
tive beauty  and  advantages  of  different  sections  of  the 
country,  or  the  best  sites  for  location,  were  the  themes 
of  conversation.  No  doubt  many  of  these  speculations 
were  dishonest  No  subject  is  more  susceptible  of  all 
the  arts  of  cheating,  because  in  no  point  is  it  so  im- 
possible to  disprove  advantages,  which  vary  with  the 
imagination  of  him  that  contemplates  them.  The  spec- 
ulators often  exercised  dishonest  arts,  before  the  great 
change  in  the  aspect  of  the  times,  which  was  more  or 
less  felt  every  where,  but  felt  with  a  more  severe 
pressure  here  than  in  any  other  place,  and  they  grew 
rich  with  unexampled  rapidity.  But  they  had  not 
rightly  discerned  the  signs  of  the  times.  For  land 
speculation  was  at  its  greediest  activity  about  the 
time  that  they  took  a  sudden,  I  might  call  it  figura- 
tively, a  perpendicular  fall.  For  they  fell  from  an  es- 
timation above  their  real  value,  through  all  the  stages 
of  depreciation,  to  an  estimation  probably  far  below 
their  proper  value.  Hundreds  of  speculators,  who  had 
embarked  all  their  means,  and  a  still  greater  degree 
of  credit  in  these  speculations,  and  who  might  have 
sold  these  lands  in  the  fortunate  moment  and  been 


201 


independent,  retained  them,  through  greediness,  until 
they  sank  at  once  in  value  upon  their  hands,  and  many 
were  ruined  ;  and,  as  always  happens  in  such  cases, 
these  men  of  the  principal  show  of  wealth,  of  credit  to 
any  extent,  and  in  whose  stability  much  of  the  means 
of  the  country  was  involved,  could  not  fail  to  drag 
down  multitudes  with  them  in  their  fall. 

Between  the  second  and  third  years  of  my  residence 
in  the  country,  the  immigration  from  the  western  and 
southern  states  to  this,eountry  poured  in  a  flood,  the 
power  and  strength  of  which  could  only  be  adequately 
conceived  by  persons  on  the  spot.  We  have  number- 
ed a  hundred  persons  passing  through  the  village  of 
St.  Charles  in  one  day.  The  number  was  said  to 
have  equalled  that  for  many  days  together.  From 
the  Mamelles  I  have  looked  over  the  subjacent  plain 
quite  to  the  ferry,  where  the  immigrants  crossed  the 
upper  Mississippi.  I  have  seen  in  this  extent  nine 
wagons  harnessed  with  from  four  to  six  horses.  We 
may  allow  a  hundred  cattle,  besides  hogs,  horses, 
and  sheep,  to  each  wagon ;  and  from  three  or  four  to 
twenty  slaves.  The  whole  appearance  of  the  train, 
the  cattle  with  their  hundred  bells ;  the  negroes  with 
delight  in  their  countenances,  for  their  labours  are 
suspended  and  their  imaginations  excited  ;  the  wag- 
ons, often  carrying  two  or  three  tons,  so  loaded  that 
the  mistress  and  children  are  strolling  carelessly 
along,  in  a  gait  which  enables  them  to  keep  up  with 
the  slow  travelling  carriage ; — the  whole  group  oc- 
cupies three  quarters  of  a  mile.  The  slaves  generally 
seem  fond  of  their  masters,  and  quite  as  much  delight- 
ed and  interested  in  the  immigration,  as  the  master. 
It  is  to  me  a  very  pleasing  and  patriarchal  scene.  It 
carries  me  back  to  the  days  of  other  vears,  and  to  the 
26 


202 


pastoral  pursuits  of  those  ancient  races,  whose  home 
was  in  a  tent,  wherever  their  flocks  found  range. 

I  question  if  the  rich  inhabitants  of  England,  taking 
their  summer  excursion  to  Bath,  are  happier  in  their 
journey,  than  these  people.  Just  about  nightfall,  they 
come  to  a  spring  or  a  branch,  where  there  is  water 
and  wood.  The  pack  of  dogs  sets  up  a  cheerful 
barking.  The  cattle  lie  down  and  ruminate.  The 
team  is  unharnessed.  The  huge  waggons  are  cover- 
ed, so  that  the  roof  completely  excludes  the  rain. 
The  cooking  utensils  are  brought  out.  The  blacks 
prepare  a  supper,  which  the  toils  of  the  day  render 
delicious;  and  they  talk  over  the  adventures  of  the 
past  day,  and  the  prospects  of  the  next.  Meantime, 
they  are  going  where  there  is  nothing  but  buffaloes 
and  deer  to  limit  their  range,  even  to  the  western  sea. 
Their  imaginations  are  highly  excited.  Said  some 
of  them  to  me,  as  they  passed  over  the  Mamelle 
prairie,  the  richest  spot  that  I  have  ever  seen  ;  "  If 
this  is  so  rich,  what  must  Boon's  Lick  be?" 

From  some  cause,  it  happens  that  in  the  western 
and  southern  states,  a  tract  of  country  gets  a  name,  as 
being  more  desirable  than  any  other.  The  imagina- 
tions of  the  multitudes  that  converse  upon  the  subject, 
get  kindled,  and  the  plains  of  Mamre  in  old  time,  or 
the  hills  of  the  land  of  promise,  were  not  more  fertile 
in  milk  and  honey,  than  are  the  fashionable  points  of 
immigration.  During  the  first,  second,  and  third  years 
of  my  residence  here,  the  whole  current  of  immigra- 
tion set  towards  this  country,  Boon's  Lick,  so  called, 
from  Boon's  having  discovered  and  worked  the  salines 
in  that  tract.  Boon's  Lick  was  the  common  centre  of 
hopes,  and  the  common  point  of  union  for  the  peo- 
ple.   Ask  one  of  them  whither  he  was  moving,  and 


205 


the  answer  was,  6i  To  Boon's  Lick,  to  be  sure."  I 
conversed  with  great  numbers  of  these  people,  af- 
fording just  samples  of  the  great  class  of  frontier  or 
backwoods  people,  who  begin  upon  the  retirement 
of  the  Indians,  and  in  their  turn  yield  to  a  more  indus- 
trious and  permanent  race  who  succeed  them,  and 
they  in  turn  push  on  still  farther,  with  their  face  ever 
toward  the  western  sea.  And  thus  wave  propels 
wave.  Thus  the  frontier  still  broadens,  and  there  are 
many  white  settlers  fixed  in  their  homes  eight  hundred 
miles  above  St.  Charles.  The  surveyor  who  ran  the 
base  line  from  the  mouth  of  the  Osage  to  the  Arkan- 
sas, found  a  white  family  in  the  vast  intermediate  de- 
sert between  the  settlements  of  the  one  river  and  the 
other,  a  hundred  miles  from  any  settled  habitation,  even 
of  the  Indians.  They  reported  that  they  saw  no 
people  oftener  than  once  in  a  year.  And  the  range  is 
almost  beyond  the  stretch  of  imagination.  For  the 
gentlemen  of  Long's  Expedition  tell  us,  that  in  the. po- 
litical limits  of  the  United  States,  they  found  tribes  of 
Indians,  whose  ears  the  name  of  the  government  that 
claims  their  country,  had  never  reached.  Nothing 
can  or  will  limit  the  immigration  westward,  but  the 
Western  Ocean.  Alas  !  for  the  moving  generation  of 
the  day,  when  the  tide  of  advancing  backwoodsmen 
shall  have  met  the  surge  of  the  Pacific.  They  may 
then  set  them  down  and  weep  for  other  worlds. 

After  a  while  the  Boon's  Lick  current  began  to  dis- 
part, and  a  branch  of  it  to  sweep  off  towards  Salt  Riv- 
er. In  a  little  while  Salt  River, — -a  river  of  the  upper 
Mississippi, — became  the  pole-star  of  attraction.  After 
my  return  from  Arkansas,  as  we  were  journeying 
through  the  state  of  Illinois,  in  the  year  1819,  the  cur- 
rent set  in  another  direction.    The  Kentuckians  and 


204 


Tennesseans  were  moving  their  droves  of  cattle  to  a 
point  on  the  Iiiinois.  I  could  not  exactly  make  out 
for  two  or  three  days,  the  name  of  their  destined  coun- 
try. They  pronounced  it  as  though  it  were  Moovis- 
tar,  or  as  my  children  phrased  it,  Moving-star.  On 
being  better  informed,  we  were  told  that  the  country 
was  denominated  from  some  poor  sand-banks  near  the 
river,  "  Mauvaise  Terre,"  or  "  Poor  Land."  I  have 
heard  at  least  a  dozen  points  come  into  fashion,  and  go 
out  again,  as  places  of  immigration.  There  was  for  a 
long  time  a  strong  sensation  in  favour  of  the  plains  on 
the  Pacific,  at  the  mouth  of  the  Columbia.  There 
was  some  effort  made  at  Washington  for  the  establish- 
ment of  a  military  post  there,  and  had  it  been  effected, 
hundreds  of  these  people  would  have  packed  up  all, 
and  would  have  whistled  over  the  vast  and  snowy 
Chepywan  ridge  to  lay  their  bones  on  the  shores  of 
the  Pacific.  At  the  moment  I  am  writing,  over  the 
western  and  southern  country,  the  current  of  the  move- 
able part  of  the  community  is  towards  Texas,  and  un- 
fortunately out  of  the  limits  of  the  country. 

I  have  spoken  of  the  moveable  part  of  the  commu- 
nity, and  unfortunately  for  the  western  country,  it  con- 
stitutes too  great  a  proportion  of  the  whole  communi- 
ty. The  general  inclination  here,  is  too  much  like 
that  of  the  Tartars.  Next  to  hunting,  Indian  wars, 
and  the  wTonderful  exuberance  of  Kentucky,  the  fa- 
vourite topic  is  new  countries.  They  talk  of  them. 
They  are  attached  to  the  associations  connected  with 
such  conversations.  They  have  a  fatal  effect  upon 
their  exertions.  They  have  no  motive,  in  consonance 
with  these  feelings,  to  build  with  old  Cato,  "  for  pos- 
terity and  the  immortal  gods."  They  only  make 
such  improvenents  as  they  can  leave  without  reluct- 


205 


ance  and  without  loss.    I  have  every  where  noted  the 
operation  of  this  impediment  in  the  way  of  those  per- 
manent and  noble  improvements  which  grow  out  of  a 
love  for  that  appropriated  spot  where  we  were  born, 
and  where  we  expect  to  die.    There  are  noble  and 
most  tender  prejudices  of  this  kind,  which  in  the  best 
minds  are  the  strongest,  and  which  make  every  thing 
dear  in  that  cradle  of  our  affections.    There  is  a  fund 
of  virtuous  habits,  arising  out  of  these  permanent  es- 
tablishments, which  give  to  our  patriotism  ua  local 
habitation  and  a  name."    But  neither  do  I  at  all  believe 
the  eloquent  but  perverse  representation  that  Talleyrand 
has  given  of  these  same  moving  people,  who  have  no 
affection  for  one  spot  more  than  another,  and  whose 
home  is  in  the  wild  woods,  or  the  boundless  prairies,  or 
wherever  their  dogs,  their  cattle,  and  their  servants, 
are  about  them.     They  lose,  no  doubt,  some  of  the 
noble  prejudices  which  are  transmitted  with  durable 
mansions  through  successive  generations.    But  they 
in  their  turn,  have  virtues,  that  are  called  into  exer- 
cise by  the  peculiarities  of  their  case  and  character, 
which  are  equally  unknown.     But  whatever  may  be 
the  effect  of  the  stationary  or  the  moving  life  upon  the 
parties  respectively,  there  can  be  no  doubt  about  the 
result  of  this  spirit  upon  the  face  of  the  country. 
Durable  houses  of  brick  or  of  stone,  which  are  pecul- 
iarly called  for,  on  account  of  the  scarcity  of  timber, — 
fences  of  hedge  and  ditch, — barns  and  granaries  of  the 
more  durable  kind, — the  establishment  of  the  coarser 
manufactories,  so  necessary  in  a  country  like  this, — 
the  planting  of  artificial  forests,  which  on  the  wide 
prairies  would  be  so  beautiful  and  useful, — all  that 
accumulation  of  labour,  industry,  taste,  and  wealth, 
that  unite  to  beautify  a  family  residence,  to  be  trans- 


206 


mitted  as  a  proud  and  useful  memento  of  the  family, — 
these  improvements,  which  seem  to  be  so  naturally 
called  for  on  these  fertile  plains,  will  not  become  gen- 
eral for  many  years.  Scarcely  has  a  family  fixed  it- 
self, and  enclosed  a  plantation  with  the  universal 
fence, — split  rails,  laid  in  the  worm-trail,  or  what  is 
known  in  the  north  by  the  name  of  Virginia  fence, — 
reared  a  suitable  number  of  log  buildings,  in  short, 
achieved  the  first  rough  improvements,  that  appertain 
to  the  most  absolute  necessity,  than  the  assembled 
family  about  the  winter  fire  begin  to  talk  about  the 
prevailing  theme, — some  country  that  has  become  the 
rage,  as  a  point  of  immigration.  They  offer  their 
farm  for  sale,  and  move  away. 

Some  go  a  step  farther  than  this,  and  plant  an  or- 
chard ;  and  no  where  do  the  trees  grow  so  thriftily  or 
rapidly.  In  the  space  of  two  or  three  years  from  the 
time  of  planting,  they  become  loaded  with  fruit.  But 
even  this  delightful  appendage  to  a  permanent  estab- 
lishment, an  orchard,  which,  with  its  trees,  so  thrifty, 
and  of  the  colour  of  young  willows,  looks,  on  these 
plains,  so  regular  and  beautiful, — even  this  does  not 
constitute  a  sufficiently  permanent  motive  of  resi- 
dence. It  is  true  there  are  places  in  Ohio,  Kentucky, 
and  Tennessee,  that  are  substantial  and  beautiful,  and 
on  the  noble  models  of  the  German  establishments  in 
the  centre  of  Pennsylvania  ;  and  they  show  to  such 
singular  advantage,  that  they  only  make  us  regret  that 
they  are  not  more  common.  In  the  generations  to 
come,  when  the  tide  of  immigration  shall  have  reach- 
ed the  western  sea,  and  the  recoil  shall  begin  to  fix 
the  people  of  these  open  plains  in  Illinois  and  Missou- 
ri, on  their  prairies,  then  they  will  plant  these  naked, 
but  level  and  rich  tracts ;  then  they  will  rear  substan- 


207 


tial  mansions  of  brick  or  stone  ;  then  they  will  dis- 
cover the  strata  of  coal ;  then  they  will  draw  the 
hedge  and  ditch  for  leagues  together  in  a  right  line, 
and  beautiful  plantations  will  arise,  where  now  there 
are  nothing  but  naked  w  astes  of  prairie,  far  from  w  ood 
and  water. 

The  two  states  of  Missouri  and  Illinois,  had  long 
had  French  establishments  in  them.  Kaskaskia,  in 
Illinois,  is  said  to  date  its  commencement  farther  back 
than  Philadelphia.  The  early  history  of  these  states, 
their  being  considerable  establishments  many  years 
ago,  and  their  having  on  an  emergency  sent  vast  quan- 
tities of  flour  to  New  Orleans,  are  facts  well  known. 
Some  of  the  establishments  on  the  west  bank  of  the 
Mississippi,  as  at  St.  Genevieve  and  St.  Louis,  are 
ancient,  in  comparison  with  the  rest  of  the  country. 
But  under  the  French  and  Spanish  regime,  they  had 
existed  as  straggling  French  boating,  hunting,  and  fur 
establishments, — in  manners,  in  pursuits,  and  character, 
as  different  from  American  establishments  as  can  be 
imagined.  They  were  in  a  manner  neglected  by  the 
Spanish  and  French  governments.  Nothing  could  sit 
easier  on  the  shoulders  of  an  indolent  race  of  hunters, 
who  led  a  half  savage  life  in  the  woods,  than  did  this 
regime.  There  was  little  to  tempt  the  avarice,  or 
stimulate  the  ambition  or  jealousy  of  the  commandants. 
Every  married  man  with  a  family  went  to  the  com- 
mandant of  the  district,  and  for  a  very  trifling  douceur 
obtained  a  settlement-right,  amounting  to  an  American 
section ;  and  these,  although  the  owners  at  the  time, 
probably,  had  no  anticipations  of  their  ultimate  value 
under  another  order  of  things,  were  of  course  selected 
in  the  best  possible  positions.  Favourites  of  the  com  - 
mandant obtained  one,  two,  or  three  leagues  square, 


208 


called  Spanish  concessions.  The  commandant,  a 
priest,  a  file  of  soldiers,  and  a  calaboza  made  up  the 
engine  of  government.  The  priest  was  generally  a 
Nimrod  of  a  hunter,  a  card-player,  and,  as  far  as  the 
means  could  be  obtained,  a  wine-bibber.  The  com- 
mandant, an  ignorant  and  despotic  man,  whose  legis- 
lation and  execution  all  centered  in  his  cane.  Afraid 
of  the  Indians,  and  still  more  afraid  of  the  Anglo- 
Americans,  who  were  in  those  days  a  furious  set  of 
outlaws,  and  who  were  deemed  by  the  Spanish  to  be 
a  compound  of  Atheist,  drunkard,  and  boxer ;  they 
were  glad  to  let  the  wheels  of  government  go  on  as 
smoothly  as  possible.  When  the  commandant  was 
raised  in  his  temper,  the  object  of  his  resentment  was 
immediately  brought  before  him,  tried  on  the  spot, 
and  if  found  guilty,  was  sent  straight  to  the  calaboza. 
But  to  blunt  the  acuteness  of  his  feelings,  and  render 
the  reflections  of  his  first  hours  as  little  bitter  as  pos- 
sible, a  suitable  provision  of  whiskey  was  sent  to  the 
unhappy  culprit,  who  would  become  very  drunk ; 
and  after  the  long  sleep  that  followed,  was  over,  and 
he  became  clamorous  for  more  whiskey,  the  command- 
ant generally  stipulated  that  the  prisoner  upon  libera- 
tion should  be  gone,  and  then  he  was  liberated.  They 
were  all  summoned  as  a  kind  of  militia,  not  to  fight  or 
prepare  for  it,  but  to  report  themselves,  and  to  appear 
before  the  commandant  once  a  year.  And  this,  to- 
gether with  the  restriction  of  having  no  public  Protest- 
ant preaching,  was  the  whole  burden.  When  we  add, 
that  the  maintaining  these  military  posts  was  very  ex- 
pensive, and  that  the  commandants  spent  all  the  money 
in  their  respective  districts^  we  shall  easily  see  whence 
it  happens  that  the  old  settlers  look  back  to  the  French 
and  Spanish  times,  as  the  golden  age.     It  is  curious 


209 


to  observe  with  how  much  ardour  they  recur  to  the 
recollections  of  those  happy  days.  And  these  recol- 
lections are  the  cause,  that  those  people  and  their  de- 
scendants have  still  a  strong  predilection  for  the  French 
and  Spanish  governments,  and  one  great  reason  of 
their  wish  to  emigrate  to  Texas. 

But,  however  happy  these  hunters,  left  unmolested 
in  the  wilderness,  may  have  been,  the  country  made 
no  advances  towards  actual  civilization  and  improve- 
ment under  them.  Like  the  English  mariners  on  the 
sea,  their  home  was  in  boats  and  canoes,  along  these 
interminable  rivers,  or  in  the  forests  hunting  with  the 
Indians.  The  laborious  and  municipal  life,  and  the 
agricultural  and  permanent  industry  of  the  Americans, 
their  complex  system  of  roads,  bridges,  trainings,  mil- 
itia, trials  by  jury,  and  above  all,  their  taxes,  were  as 
hostile  to  the  feelings  of  the  greater  portion  of  the  in- 
habitants, when  we  purchased  Louisiana,  as  the  fixed 
home  and  labour  of  a  Russian  are  said  to  be  to  a 
Tartar. 

But  as  soon  as  this  country  came  under  our  govern- 
ment, and  the  influence  of  the  guardian  spirit  of  lib- 
erty began  to  be  felt,  it  is  astonishing  how  quickly  all 
these  things  began  to  change.  The  proudest  eulogy, 
that  was  ever  uttered  upon  the  genius  of  our  govern- 
ment, was  this  sudden  transformation.  Immediately 
upon  the  country's  passing  into  the  hands  of  the  Amer- 
ican government,  the  lands  began  to  rise  in  value. 
The  country  began  to  have  an  estimation  in  the  minds 
of  the  inhabitants.  And  the  French,  much  as  they 
were  dissatisfied  with  the  municipal  regulations  of  the 
Americans,  were  not  the  less  eager  to  gain  all  possible 
advantage  from  the  increased  value  of  lands  and  pos- 
sessions. The  "  Louve  des  eaux,"  in  the  year  1811, 
27 


210 


was  fatal  on  account  of-  the  universal  sickness,  which 
carried  off  great  numbers  of  the  Americans,  who  had 
not  jet  obtained  comfortable  cabins,  clothing,  or  food. 
For  as  yet,  there  were  no  mills,  but  a  few  indifferent 
ones  worked  by  horses,  in  the  French  villages.  Corn 
bread,  made  of  maize  pounded  in  a  mortar,  was  their 
whole  bread.  Notwithstanding  this  discouragement, 
and  the  consequent  relinquishment  of  the  country  by 
many  who  had  settled  there,  and  the  multitudes  dis- 
couraged by  their  reports,  from  coming  to  the  country, 
it  began  to  receive  a  regular  increase  of  American 
population,  people  whose  object  it  was  to  make  farms, 
and  live  by  agriculture.  The  American  courts  were 
in  operation,  and  their  decisions  had  given  confidence 
to  the  settlers,  and  security  to  lands  and  possessions. 
Lead  had  become  a  valuable  and  abundant  article  of 
exportation.  But  when  I  first  saw  the  country,  the 
marks  of  improvement  were  scarcely  at  all  visible  up- 
on the  face  of  it.  The  people,  with  few  ex- 
ceptions, still  lived  in  mud-daubed  cabins.  The 
French  villages  had  that  peculiar  aspect,  which  belongs 
to  them,  looking,  from  their  singular  forms  and  plas- 
tered walls,  as  beautiful  at  a  distance,  as  they  were 
mean  and  comfortless,  when  contemplated  near  at 
hand.  St.  Genevieve,  with  a  population  of  fifteen 
hundred  people,  had  only  half  a  dozen  comfortable 
American  houses  in  the  town.  Carondelet,  Florissant, 
Portage  des  Sioux,  St.  Charles,  in  short  all  the  vil- 
lages were  entirely  French.  St.  Louis  had  perhaps 
six  or  eight  American  brick  houses,  and  St.  Charles 
but  one.  The  rest  were  either  houses  made  with 
upright  timbers,  and  the  interstices  daubed  with  mud, 
or  stone  houses  laid  up  rough-cast,  and  coated  smooth 
with  mortar.     When  I  left  the  country  there  was  a 


211 


number  of  considerable  villages  containing  good  hous- 
es, that  had  arisen,  de  novo,  and  the  old  French  towns 
became  chequered  with  handsome  brick  buildings. 
Lines  of  buildings  containing  spacious  and  handsome 
city  houses,  arose  in  St.  Louis, — houses,  that  would  not 
have  disgraced  Philadelphia.  St.  Charles  reared 
a  long  and  handsome  street  of  spacious  and  neat  brick 
houses.  Handsome  houses  arose  in  different  points 
of  the  country,  surrounded  by  gardens  and  orchards, 
which  indicated  attention  to  beauty,  as  well  as  use- 
fulness. Steam-mills  arose  in  St.  Louis,  and  ox-mills 
on  the  principle  of  the  inclined  plain,  or  tread- 
mill. Saw- mills  were  erected  among  the  pine  for- 
ests on  the  Gasconade,  far  up  the  Missouri.  The 
means  and  materials  for  building  became  abundant, 
and  boards  sunk  from  five  dollars  the  hundred  feet, 
to  one  and  a  half.  You  might  in  different  parts 
of  the  state  enter  handsome  houses,  and  taverns  built  in 
the  Atlantic  style ;  and  I  have  seen  two  of  the  latter, 
which  were  not  content  with  the  title  of  "  hotel,"  impos- 
ing as  it  is,  but  which  carried  on  their  signs  the  still 
more  fashionable  term  "  caravanserai."  The  militia 
made  progress  in  organization.  Schools  and  academies, 
with  imposing  proffers  at  least,  arose.  The  population 
had  increased  to  about  seventy  thousand.  The  progress 
of  Illinois,  with  which  I  was  not  so  much  acquainted, 
was  nearly  similar,  although  it  laboured  under  the  in- 
convenience of  excluding  the  larger  slave  holders,  from 
its  laws  interdicting  slavery.  This  disadvantage  was 
not  as  yet  compensated,  by  its  opening  a  more  invit- 
ing asylum  to  emigration  from  the  North  ;  for  the  full 
tide  of  that  emigration  set  towards  Ohio.  What  was 
not  arrested  there,  chiefly  settled  in  Indiana.  Only  a 
small  portion  of  it  reached  Illinois.    But  from  the  im- 


212 


mense  bodies  of  its  rich  land,  it  possessing  in  my  judg- 
ment a  greater  quantity,  than  any  other  portion  of  the 
Union,  and  from  its  unrivalled  position  in  respeet  to  in- 
land navigation,  it  must  eventually  leave  the  opposite 
state  behind,  in  the  progress  of  its  advancement. 

A  sudden  and  very  unfortunate  impediment  to  this 
growing  improvement  began  to  be  visible  in  the  lat- 
ter part  of  1816,  and  went  on  increasing  in  its  force, 
until  I  left  the  country.  This  was  in  the  sudden  re- 
duction of  prices  in  the  Atlantic  country,  the  pressure 
of  the  times,  and  the  sudden  failure  of  the  numerous 
banks  of  the  western  country,  of  which,  it  appeared, 
that  but  a  few  had  ever  been  conducted  upon  banking 
principles.  As  long  as  the  lands  remained  high,  and 
the  emigrants  continued  to  pour  in,  bringing  with 
them  the  money,  with  which  they  bought  their  lands, — 
as  long  as  the  abundant  and  unnatural  circulation  of 
money,  both  good  and  spurious,  continued  to  pass  un- 
questioned, these  bills  answered  all  the  purposes  of 
money.  But  the  moment  this  pressure  began  to  ope- 
rate, in  preventing  the  people  who  were  disposed  to 
remove  to  the  country,  from  selling  their  lands,  the 
tide  was  arrested.  The  merchants,  who  had  sold  as 
liberally,  as  the  unnatural  abundance  of  money  had 
enabled  the  people  to  purchase,  called  for  payment. 
The  spurious  bills  all  failed  in  the  hands  of  the  hold- 
ers. The  merchants  remitted  every  specie  dollar, 
that  came  to  their  hands.  At  once  all  circulating  me- 
dium disappeared.  There  were  scarcely  means  for 
the  wealthiest  planter  to  purchase  articles  of  the  most 
pure  necessity.  Lands  at  first  sunk  in  value,  and  then 
would  scarcely  sell  at  all.  All  confidence  was  de- 
stroyed by  the  many  evasions  of  payment,  that  occur- 
red through  the  influence  of  what  were  called  relief 


213 


laws.  In  Missouri  and  Illinois  they  established  a 
hanking  system,  which  was  called  a  loan  office.  The 
money  was  redeemable  in  equal  annual  instalments 
of  ten  per  cent,  in  ten  years.  This  money,  not  build- 
ing its  credit  on  specie  in  the  vaults  of  its  bank,  but 
on  the  faith  of  the  state,  pledged  for  its  redemption, 
was  declared  by  some  of  the  courts  to  be  illegal,  and 
not  a  tender,  as  it  had  been  made  by  the  legislature 
that  created  it.  Other  courts  gave  an  opposite  decis- 
ion. It  depreciated  successively  to  seventy-five,  fifty, 
thirty-seven,  and  twenty-five  per  cent,  of  its  nom- 
inal value.  And  this  remedy,  like  quack  reme- 
dies in  general,  aggravated  the  paroxysm  of  the 
disease. 

There  wTas  probably  no  part  of  the  United  States 
more  severely  pressed  than  these  two  states.  Im- 
provement not  only  came  to  a  dead  pause,  but  even 
seemed  to  retrograde.  A  great  many  people  had  been 
sick  on  removing  to  a  new  climate.  Unable  to 
get  money  to  pay  their  taxes,  to  purchase  clothing 
for  themselves  and  slaves,  and  those  luxuries,  which 
by  long  custom  have  become  necessaries  ;  they  pack- 
ed up  their  moveables,  collected  their  cattle,  and 
returned  to  the  countries  whence  they  came.  I 
witnessed  the  meeting  of  two  families  on  the  St. 
Charles  road,  the  one  going  to  Boon's  Lick,  and 
the  other  coming  from  it.  They  had  formerly  been 
neighbours  in  Kentucky.  The  person  retreating  from 
Missouri  first  questions  the  other,  why  he  was 
leaving  u  old  Kentuck."  The  reply  was,  Jf  The  range 
is  all  eaten  out,  and  I  am  going  to  Boon's  Lick." 
"  Why,"  he  asked  in  his  turn,  "  are  you  coming 
away  ?  "  "  Oh  !  the  people  die  there," — I  use  his  ve- 
ry phrase, — "  like  rotten  sheep.    They  have  filled  one 


214 


grave-yard  'already,  and  have  begun  upon  another. 
Turn  about,  and  go  back ;  after  all  there  is  nothing 
like  old .  Kentuck."  "  I  am  determined,  however," 
said  the  immigrant,  "  to  go  on."  "  Well,  go  on,  but  I 
can  tell  you, you  will  shake," — meaning  that  he  would 
have  the  ague. 

I  was  here  when  the  state  of  Missouri  passed  from 
its  territorial  character  to  that  of  a  state.  The  slave 
question  wTas  discussed  with  a  great  deal  of  asper- 
ity, and  no  person  from  the  northern  states,  unless  his 
sentiments  were  unequivocally  expressed,  had  any 
hope  of  being  elected  to  the  convention,  that  formed 
the  constitution.  The  constitution  was  well  enough, 
except  in  its  stupid  interdiction  of  ministers  from  being 
eligible  to  any  office  in  the  state,  and  in  some  other 
trifling  enactions  equally  barbarous. 

In  the  scramble  for  offices  that  ensued,  all  the  ele- 
ments of  vanity,  ambition,  and  aspiring  consequence 
burst  out.  The  people  in  the  western  country,  from 
some  cause,  are  far  more  eager  for  distinction  and  for 
office,  than  at  the  eastward.  Electioneering  is  carried 
on  with  more  unblushing  effrontery.  In  calling  from 
the  common  level  of  society,  people  unknown  to  one  an- 
other and  to  the  state,  the  new  officers  that  were  to  be 
created,  a  chance  was  offered  for  distinction,  which 
might  never  occur  again.  Many,  who  would  never 
have  aspired  to  an  office  in  the  region  from  w  hich  they 
came,  here  found  themselves  thrown  into  positions, 
where  this  new  hope  of  distinction  was  awakened. 
The  campaign  was  hard  fought.  Much  ink  was  shed. 
Many  political  essays  came  from  the  presses,  which 
will  never  go  down  to  posterity.  But  on  the  whole, 
that  redeeming  principle  which  seems  to  be  mixed  with 
the  administration  of  government  on  American  prin- 


215 


ciples,  brought  about  the  issue  with  a  quietness,  which 
considering  the  bitterness  of  the  competition,  the  na- 
ture of  the  case,  and  the  elements  of  strife  and  dis- 
cord which  were  so  abundantly  mixed  in  this  chaotic 
political  mass,  w  as  incredible.  Alexander  McNair  was 
elected  first  governor  in  opposition  to  Mr.  Clark,  who 
had  been  territorial  governor.  He  was  an  amiable  Hi- 
bernian, an  ancient  inhabitant  of  St.  Louis,  who  had 
endeared  himself  to  the  people  by  his  cordial  and  win- 
ning manners.  The  judges  selected  were  respectable, 
and  the  whole  setting  up  of  the  new  government  was 
fortunate,  and  of  good  omen  for  the  future  peace  of 
the  state.  The  legislature  convened  at  St.  Charles. 
I  was  present  at  their  meetings  two  winters.  Some 
of  them  were  neither  Solons  nor  Solomons.  Indeed, 
in  the  western  country  and  elsewhere  in  America, 
they  do  not  believe  the  maxim, 44  ex  quolibet,??  &c<  ;  al- 
most any  timber  can  be  worked  into  the  political  ship. 
Some  boys  invented  a  very  tolerable  pasquinade.  It 
was  labelled  on  the  plastering  around  the  speaker's 
chair.  44  Missouri,  forgive  them.  They  know  not 
what  they  do." 

LETTER  XIX. 

It  is  time  for  me  to  return  to  the  narrative  of  mat- 
ters more  personally  interesting  to  myself.  I  had  du- 
ties belonging  to  my  profession  in  the  lower  country. 
I  had  received  an  invitation  to  immigrate  to  the  state 
of  Mississippi.  Matters  were  in  such  a  train  at  St. 
Charles,  that  the  situation  of  a  minister  was  rather 
pleasant,  in  some  respects.  There  was  an  agreeable 
society,  a  good  choir  of  singers,  and  a  people,  between 


216 


whom  and  myself  there  existed  a  mutual  attachment 
St.  Charles,  too,  had  many  delightful  and  sheltered 
walks,  which  I  had  traversed,  according  to  my  custom, 
a  thousand  times.  I  had  never  seen  a  place,  which 
seemed  to  me  so  much  like  home.  I  had  often  thought 
to  finish  my  course  there, — had  found  the  place  where 
I  had  hoped  that  my  ashes  would  rest.  1  know  not 
how  it  is,  but  there  are  places,  where  there  seems  to 
exist  a  secret  sympathy  between  the  place  and  the 
person.  There  are  others,  which  from  the  first  we 
regard  with  dislike.  St.  Charles,  with  its  high  bench 
above  the  town,  its  beautiful  wooded  islands,  its  rich 
opposite  bottom,  its  extended  prairie,  had  a  charm 
for  me.  When,  in  fulfilling  what  seemed  to  be  the 
designation  of  providence  with  respect  to  me,  I  was 
preparing  for  my  departure,  some  arrangements  were 
made  to  effect  a  final  settlement  for  me,  and  a  sub- 
scription was  filled  to  a  considerable  amount,  which, 
had  it  been  attempted  before  I  had  made  my  arrange- 
ments for  departure,  I  should  have  accepted.  But  our 
purpose  was  fixed,  to  try  some  more  southern  climate. 
I  had  some  bibles  and  tracts  for  Arkansas,  and  it  was 
proposed,  that  we  should  stop  at  the  "Post,"  on  our 
way  to  Natchez. 

We  had  determined  to  go  in  the  autumn  of 
1818,  but  the  very  severe  disease,  with  which  I  had 
been  visited,  prevented.  I  was  ready  to  depart  the 
spring  following.  It  will  be  seen  in  the  progress  of 
these  pages,  that  we  went  down  the  Mississippi  to  the 
territory  of  Arkansas,  staid  there  one  summer,  and  ex- 
perienced distressing  sickness  in  every  member  of  my 
family,  except  myself ;  that  my  family  became  ex- 
tremely disheartened ;  that  we  returned  in  the  autumn 
up  the  Mississippi,  to  the  south  part  of  Missouri* 


217 

spending  one  year  in  the  counties  of  New  Madrid  and 
Cape  Girardeau,  that  we  then  returned  to  St.  Charles, 
and  in  the  autumn  were  vall  seized,  except  my  eldest 
son,  with  the  bilious  fever.  My  wife  and  myself  just 
escaped  with  our  lives.  We  botli  had  fever  and  ague 
long  after  the  regular  fever  had  left  us.  I  had  seven- 
ty fits  of  the  ague,  labouring  under  this  dreadful  com- 
plaint the  greater  part  of  the  year.  We  received 
earnest  and  pressing  invitations  from  our  friends,  ac- 
companied by  unquestionable  marks  of  kind  recollec- 
tions of  us ;  and  made  preparations  to  go  down  the 
Mississippi  to  New  Orleans,  thinking  to  embark 
thence  for  New  England.  After  a  sacramental  meet- 
ing at  St,  Charles  accompanied  by  the  prayers  and 
tears  of  many  friends,  not  without  corresponding  tears 
of  our  own,  we  left  St.  Charles,  and,  in  two  days 
afterwards,  our  quiet  retreat  on  the  delightful  prairie 
below  town.  We  embarked  once  more  in  our  own 
boat.  I  at  least,  before  I  bid  a  final  adieu  to  that 
fertile  and  charming  plain,  cast  many  a  "  longing, 
lingering  look  behind."  These,  our  advancing  and 
retrograde  movements,  would  have  perplexed  the  or- 
der of  my  remarks,  had  I  journalized  down,  and  back- 
ward again.  I  propose  therefore  to  throw  together 
the  result  of  my  observations  in  the  southern  parts  of 
this  state,  though  they  were  made  on  my  return  from 
the  Arkansas,  and  to  reserve  my  remarks  on  that 
part  of  the  country,  as  a  portion  of  my  observations 
of  the  southern  part  of  the  Mississippi  valley.  I  will 
only  remark,  that  in  my  trip  from  St.  Charles  to  Ar- 
kansas, we  went  in  a  very  large  keel-boat,  with  an 
ignorant  patron.  The  whole  way  was  one  scene 
of  disasters.  We  ran  aground  near  Belle-fon- 
taine,  and  were  extricated  bv  the  help  of  a  file  of 
28 


21H 


soldiers  from  the  garrison.  We  were  carried  among 
the  sawyers  at  the  mouth  of  the  Missouri,  and  nar- 
rowly escaped  wreck.  We  were  like  to  he  sunk 
in  the  harbour  at  St.  Louis  by  a  leak  in  the  bot- 
tom of  our  boat,  which  commenced  in  a  dark  and 
stormy  night. 

Opposite  Flour  Island  we  encountered  the  severest 
storm  of  thunder,  hail,  and  wind,  that  I  had  ever  yet 
experienced.  Wherever  the  full  force  of  the  thunder- 
gust  passed  the  river,  it  twisted  the  cotton  trees  in  all 
directions,  as  though  they  had  been  rushes.  No 
person,  who  is  unacquainted  with  the  Mississippi,  can 
have  an  adequate  idea  of  the  roughness  and  the  agi- 
tation occasioned  by  a  tempest,  especially  when  the 
wind  blows  in  a  direction  opposite  to  the  current. 
Storms  on  it  are  at  least  as  dangerous  as  they  are  on 
the  sea.  The  waves  came  in  on  the  running-boards, 
as  they  are  called,  of  the  boat,  at  times  two  feet  deep. 
We  were  heavily  laden,  our  boat  an  hundred  feet 
keel,  old  and  frail ;  the  water  gained  upon  us,  not- 
withstanding all  our  efforts  to  bail  and  pump  ;  and  such 
was  the  violence  of  the  wind  and  current,  that  it  was 
all  in  vain  to  attempt  to  give  the  boat  headway  in 
any  other  direction,  than  to  let  her  float  before  the 
wind,  making  no  exertion,  only  to  keep  her  bow  across 
the  waves.  Two  very  large  boats,  that  came  in  com- 
pany with  us  from  the  mouth  of  the  Ohio,  that  had 
been  lashed  together  before  the  storm,  unlashed  as 
the  storm  commenced.  The  one  went  on  a  sawyer, 
and  was  dashed  in  pieces.  She  had  been  loaded  with 
four  or  five  hundred  barrels  of  flour,  porter,  and 
whiskey,  and  the  barrels  were  floating  by  us  in  all 
directions.  The  hands  left  the  other,  that  was  loaded 
in  the  same  way,  and  she  floated  by  us,  sunk  to  the 


219 


roof.  We  made  every  effort  to  run  her  on  shore  in 
vain.  Nor  did  we  ever  ascertain  what  became  of  the 
hands  of  either  boat.  They  probably  all  perished. 
For  the  water  was  over  the  banks  from  ten  to  twenty 
feet,  and  the  width  of  this  overflow  was  probably  forty 
miles. 

We  were  afterwards  driven  by  wind  and  by  mis- 
management into  an  eddy  opposite  the  middle  Chick- 
asaw bluff,  in  which  our  boat  of  an  hundred  feet  in 
length,  was  whirled  about  so  rapidly,  as  to  create 
dizziness  in  the  passengers,  and  in  which  the  centre 
sunk  like  a  basin,  and  of  course  bent  the  boat,  so  as 
that  it  would  have  broken,  had  we  not  availed  our- 
selves of  a  fortunate  filling  of  this  basin,  to  get  a  cable 
to  the  trees  on  shore,  by  which,  with  great  difficulty, 
we  extricated  ourselves.  A  barge,  but  a  little  while 
before,  had  been  broken  in  two,  in  this  same  eddy. 
This  closed  the  series  of  our  unpleasant  accidents, 
before  we  reached  the  fort  of  Arkansas,  the  voyage 
to  which,  and  back  again  to  New  Madrid,  will  be 
noted  in  another  place. 


LETTER  XX.—JACKSOJV. 

The  county  of  New  Madrid  is  the  southern  limit  of 
the  state  of  Missouri,  which  here  bounds  upon  the 
territory  of  Arkansas.  I  expected  to  have  found  this 
little  village  a  most  abandoned  and  disagreeable  place, 
and  it  was  my  object  to  have  made  my  way  with  my 
family  by  land  to  St.  Charles.  But  we  were  still  fee- 
ble from  sickness.  We  arrived  about  the  middle  of 
December,  1819.  The  winter  was  commencing  with 
severity,  and  the  Mississippi  was  so  low,  that  the  boat 


220 

which  brought  my  family  from  Arkansas, — although 
it  drew  only  thirty  inches  cf  water, — was  continually 
striking  on  the  shoal  sand-bars.  And  to  add  to  the 
difficulty,  the  ice  was  beginning  to  run  in  the  Missis- 
sippi, so  as  to  preclude  any  possibility  of  going  up 
safely.  We  concluded  to  spend  the  winter  at  New 
Madrid,  and  we  were  delighted  to  find  a  few  amiable 
and  well-informed  families,  with  whom  wre  passed  a 
few  months  very  pleasantly,  in  the  interchange  of  kind 
and  affectionate  offices.  A  congregation  attended  di- 
vine service  on  the  Sabbath  with  perseverance  and  at- 
tention. A  venerable  Jady  of  the  name  of  Gray,  who 
w?as  as  well-informed  as  she  was  devout,  a  part  of 
whose  house  my  family  occupied,  assisted  me  in  my 
labours,  and  formed  herself  a  Sabbath  school,  which 
she  has  continued  some  years  with  uninterrupted  suc- 
cess. The  winter  passed  pleasantly.  The  region  is 
interesting  in  many  points  of  view.  It  is  a  fine  tract 
of  country,  principally  alluvial,  very  rich  and  pleasant, 
and  chiefly  timbered  land.  In  this  respect,  the  coun- 
try south  of  the  Missouri,  and  west  of  the  Mississippi, 
differs  essentially  from  the  country  north  of  the  Mis- 
souri. From  the  Mississippi,  for  two  hundred  miles 
west  it  is  almost  entirely  woodland.  A  few  small  al- 
luvial prairies  make  the  only  exceptions.  There  is 
much  land  covered  with  shrubs  and  very  poor,  which 
differs  much  from  prairie  land.  And  then,  beyond 
that,  there  are  vast  tracts  of  country  covered  with  flint- 
knobs.  With  the  exception  of  what  is  called  the  Great 
Prairie,  near  New  Madrid,  the  country,  for  many  miles 
on  all  sides,  is  covered  with  heavy  timber  of  all  the  de- 
scriptions common  to  that  country  ;  and  in  addition 
there  is  the  yellow  poplar, — tulipifera  liriodendron, — 
one  of  of  the  grandest  and  loftiest  trees  of  the  forest. 


221 


You  first  begin  to  discern  in  new  species  of  trees, — 
in  new  classes  of  Manes,  or  creeping  vines  in  the  bot- 
toms, and  in  a  few  classes  of  most  beautiful  shrubs, 
approaches  to  a  new  and  more  southern  climate.  This 
regiou  also  is  interesting  from  the  singularly  romantic 
project  of  colonizing  a  great  town  and  country  under 
the  Spanish  regime.  In  listening  to  the  details  of  this 
singular  attempt,  under  a  certain  General  Morgan,  of 
New  Jersey,  I  have  heard  particulars  alternately  ludi- 
crous and  terrible,  exciting  laughter  and  shuddering, 
which  if  they  were  narrated  without  any  colouring, 
would  emulate  the  stories  of  romance.  A  hundred 
and  a  hundred  scenes  have  been  exhibited  in  these  re- 
gions, which  are  now  incapable  of  being  rescued  from 
oblivion,  which  possessed,  to  me  at  least,  a  harrowing 
degree  of  interest,  in  the  disappointments  and  sufferings 
of  these  original  adventurers,  enticed  away  by  colour- 
ed descriptions,  which  represented  these  countries  as 
terrestrial  paradises.  Many  of  the  families  were  re- 
spectable, and  had  been  reared  in  all  the  tenderness  of 
opulence  and  plenty.  There  were  highly  cultivated 
and  distinguished  French  families, — and  here,  among 
the  bears  and  Indians,  and  in  a  sickly  climate,  and  in 
a  boundless  forest,  surrounded  by  a  swamp,  dotted 
with  a  hundred  dead  lakes,  and  of  four  hundred  miles 
extent,  they  found  the  difference  between  an  Arcadian 
residence  in  the  descriptions  of  romance,  and  actual 
existence  in  the  wild  woods.  There  were  a  few  aged 
chroniclers  of  these  days  still  surviving,  when  I  was 
there,  particularly  two  French  families,  from  whom  I 
obtained  many  of  these  details.  The  settlement  had 
almost  expired,  had  been  resuscitated,  and  had  again 
exhibited  symptoms  of  languishment,  a  number  of 
times. 


222 


'But  up  to  the  melancholy  period  of  the  earthquakes, 
it  had  advanced  with  the  slow  but  certain  progress  of 
every  thing  that  feels  the  influence  of  American  laws 
and  habits.  By  these  terrible  phenomena,  the  settle- 
ment again  received  a  shock  which  portended  at  first 
entire  desertion,  but  from  which,  as  the  earthquakes 
have  lessened  in  frequency  and  violence,  it  is  again 
slowly  recovering.  From  all  the  accounts,  corrected 
one  by  another,  and  compared  witli  the  very  imperfect 
narratives  which  were  published,  I  infer  that  the  shock 
of  these  earthquakes  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  the 
centre  of  their  force,  must  have  equalled  in  their  ter- 
rible heavings  of  the  earth,  any  thing  of  the  kind  that 
has  been  recorded.  I  do  not  believe  that  the  public 
have  ever  yet  had  any  adequate  idea  of  the  violence  of 
the  concussions.  We  are  accustomed  to  measure  this 
by  the  buildings  overturned,  and  the  mortality  that  re- 
sults. Here  the  country  was  thinly  settled.  The 
houses,  fortunately,  were  frail  and  of  logs,  the  most 
difficult  to  overturn  that  could  be  constructed.  Yet, 
as  it  was,  whole  tracts  were  plunged  into  the  bed  of 
the  river.  The  grave-yard  at  New  Madrid,  with  all 
its  sleeping  tenants,  was  precipitated  into  the  bend  of 
•  the  stream.  Most  of  the  houses  were  thrown  down. 
Large  lakes  of  twenty  miles  in  extent  were  made  in 
an  hour.  Other  lakes  were  drained.  The  whole 
country,  to  the  mouth  of  the  Ohio  in  one  direction, 
and  to  the  St.  Francis  in  the  other,  including  a  front 
of  three  hundred  miles,  was  convulsed  to  such  a  de- 
gree as  to  create  lakes  and  islands,  the  number  of 
which  is  not  yet  known, — to  cover  a  tract  of  many 
miles  in  extent,  near  the  Little  Prairie,  with  water 
three  or  four  feet  deep ;  and  when  the  water  disap- 
peared, a  stratum  of  sand  of  the  same  thickness  was 


223 


left  in  its  place.  The  trees  split  in  the  midst,  lashed 
one  with  another,  and  are  still  visible  over  great 
tracts  of  country,  inclining  in  every  direction  and  in 
every  angle  to  the  earth  and  the  horizon.  They  de- 
scribed the  undulation  of  the  earth  as  resembling  waves, 
increasing  in  elevation  as  they  advanced,  and  when 
they  had  attained  a  certain  fearful  height,  the  earth 
would  burst,  and  vast  volumes  of  water,  and  sand, 
and  pit-coal  were  discharged,  as  high  as  the  tops  of  the 
trees.  I  have  seen  a  hundred  of  these  chasms,  which 
remained  fearfully  deep,  although  in  a  very  tender  al- 
luvial soil,  and  after  a  lapse  of  seven  years.  Whole 
districts  were  covered  with  white  sand,  so  as  to  be- 
come uninhabitable.  The  water  at  first  covered  the 
whole  country,  particularly  at  the  Little  Prairie  ;  and 
it  must  have  been,  indeed,  a  scene  of  horror,  in  these 
deep  forests  and  in  the  gloom  of  the  darkest  night,  and 
by  wading  in  the  water  to  the  middle,  to  fly  from  these 
concussions,  which  were  occurring  every  few  hours, 
with  a  noise  equally  terrible  to  the  beasts  and  birds,  as 
to  men.  The  birds  themselves  lost  all  power  and  dis- 
position to  fly,  and  retreated  to  the  bosoms  of  men, 
their  fellow  sufferers  in  this  general  convulsion.  A 
few  persons  sunk  in  these  chasms,  and  were  providen- 
tially extricated.  One  person  died  of  affright.  One 
perished  miserably  on  an  island,  which  retained  its 
original  level  in  the  midst  of  a  wide  lake  created  by* 
the  earthquake.  The  hat  and  clothes  of  this  man 
were  found.  A  number  perished,  who  sunk  with  their 
boats  in  the  river.  A  bursting  of  the  earth  just  below 
the  village  of  New  Madrid,  arrested  this  mighty 
stream  in  its  course,  and  caused  a  reflux  of  its  waves, 
by  which  in  a  little  time  a  great  number  of  boats  were 
swept  by  the  ascending  current  into  the  mouth  of  the 


224 


Bayou,  carried  out  and  left  upon  the  dry  earth,  when 
the  accumulating  waters  of  the  river  had  again  cleared 
their  current. 

There  was  a  great  number  of  severe  shocks,  but 
twro  series  of  concussions  were  particularly  terrible  : 
far  more  so  than  the  rest.  And  they  remark  that  the 
shocks  wTere  clearly  distinguishable  into  two  classes  ; 
those  in  which  the  motion  was  horizontal,  and  those  in 
which  it  was  perpendicular.  The  latter  were  attended 
with  the  explosions,  and  the  terrible  mixture  of  noises, 
that  preceded  and  accompanied  the  earthquakes,  in  a 
louder  degree,  but  were  by  no  means  so  desolating  and 
destructive  as  the  other.  When  they  were  felt,  the 
houses  crumbled,  the  trees  waved  together,  the  ground 
sunk,  and  all  the  destructive  phenomena  were  more 
conspicuous.  In  the  interval  of  the  earthquakes  there 
wras  one  evening,  and  that  a  brilliant  and  cloudless 
one,  in  which  the  western  sky  was  a  continued  glare 
of  vivid  flashes  of  lightning,  and  of  repeated  peals  of 
subterranean  thunder,  seeming  to  proceed,  as  the  flash- 
es did,  from  below  the  horizon.  They  remark  that 
the  night,  so  conspicuous  for  subterranean  thunder, 
w?as  the  same  period  in  which  the  fatal  earthquakes  at 
Carraccas  occurred,  and  they  seem  to  suppose  these 
flashes  and  that  event  parts  of  the  same  scene. 

One  result  from  these  terrific  phenomena  was  very 
obvious.  The  people  of  this  village  had  been  noted 
for  their  profligacy  and  impiety.  In  the  midst  of  these 
scenes  of  terror,  all,  Catholics  and  Protestants,  praying 
and  profane,  became  of  one  religion,  and  partook  of 
one  feeling.  Two  hundred  people,  speaking  English, 
French,  and  Spanish,  crowded  together,  their  visages 
pale,  the  mothers  embracing  their  children, — as  soon 
as  the  omen  that  preceded  the  earthquakes  became  visi- 


225 

ble,  as  soon  as  the  air  became  a  little  obscured,  as 
though  a  sudden  mist  arose  from  the  east, — all,  in  their 
different  languages  and  forms,  but  all  deeply  in  earn- 
est, betook  themselves  to  the  voice  of  prayer.  The 
cattle,  as  much  terrified  as  the  rational  creation, 
crowded  about  the  assemblage  of  men,  and  seemed  to 
demand  protection,  or  community  of  danger.  One 
lady  ran  as  far  as  her  strength  would  permit,  and  then 
fell  exhausted  and  fainting,  from  which  she  never  re- 
covered. The  general  impulse,  when  the  shocks  com- 
menced, was  to  run  ;  and  yet  when  they  were  at  the 
severest  point  of  their  motion,  the  people  were  thrown 
on  the  ground  at  almost  every  step.  A  French  gen- 
tleman told  me  that  in  escaping  from  his  house,  the 
largest  in  the  village,  he  found  he  had  left  an  infant 
behind,  and  he  attempted  to  mount  up  the  raised  piaz- 
za to  recover  the  child,  and  was  thrown  down  a  dozen 
times  in  succession.  The  venerable  lady  in  whose 
house  we  lodged,  was  extricated  from  the  ruins  of  her 
house,  having  lost  every  thing  that  appertained  to  her 
establishment,  which  could  be  broken  or  destroyed. 
The  people  at  the  Little  Prairie,  who  suffered  most, 
had  their  settlement, — which  consisted  of  a  hundred 
families,  and  which  was  located  in  a  wide  and  very 
deep  and  fertile  bottom, — broken  up.  When  I  passed 
it,  and  stopped  to  contemplate  the  traces  of  the  catas- 
trophe which  remained  after  seven  years,  the  crevices 
where  the  earth  had  burst  were  sufficiently  manifest, 
and  the  whole  region  was  covered  with  sand  to  the 
depth  of  two  or  three  feet.  The  surface  was  red  with 
oxided  pyrites  of  iron,  and  the  sand-blows,  as  they 
were  called,  were  abundantly  mixed  with  this  kind  of 
earth,  and  with  pieces  of  pit-coal.  But  two  families 
remained  of  the  whole  settlement.  The  object 
29 


226 


seems  to  have  been  in  the  first  paroxysms  of  alarm  to 
escape  to  the  hills  at  the  distance  of  twenty-five  miles. 
The  depth  of  the  water  that  covered  the  surface  soon 
precluded  escape. 

The  people  without  an  exception  were  unlettered 
backwoodsmen,  of  the  class  least  addicted  to  reason- 
ing.   And  yet  it  is  remarkable  how  ingeniously,  and 
conclusively  they  reasoned  from  apprehension  shar- 
pened by  fear.     They  remarked  that  the  chasms  in 
the  earth  were  in  direction  from  southwest  to  north- 
east, and  they  were  of  an  extent  to  swallow  up  not 
only  men,  but  houses,  "  down  quick  into  the  pit.'7 
And  these  chasms  occurred  frequently  within  intervals 
of  half  a  mile.    They  felled  the  tallest  trees  at  right 
angles  to  the  chasms,  and  stationed  themselves  upon  the 
felled  trees.    By  this  invention  all  were  saved.  For 
the  chasms  occurred  more  than  once  under  these  fell- 
ed trees.     Meantime  their  cattle  and  their  harvests, 
both  here  and  at  New  Madrid,  principally  perished. 
The  people  no  longer  dared  to  dwell  in  houses.  They 
passed  this  winter,  and  the  succeeding  one  in  bark 
booths  and  camps,  like  those  of  the  Indians,  of  so 
light  a  texture  as  not  to  expose  the  inhabitants  to  dan- 
ger in  case  of  their  being  thrown  down.    Such  num- 
bers of  laden  boats  were  wrecked  above,  and  the  la- 
ding driven  by  the  eddy  into  the  mouth  of  the  Bayou, 
at  the  village,  which  makes  the  harbour,  that  the  people 
w  ere  amply  supplied  with  every  article  of  provision. 
Flour,  beef,  pork,  bacon,  butter,  cheese,  apples,  in 
short,  every  thing  that  is  carried  down  the  river,  was 
in  such  abundance,  as  scarcely  to  be  matters  of  sale. 
Many  boats,  that  came  safely  into  the  Bayou,  were  dis- 
posed of  by  their  affrighted  owners  for  a  trifle.  For 
the  shocks  still  continued  every  day  ;  and  the  owners. 


227 


deeming  the  whole  country  below  to  be  sunk,  were 
glad  to  return  to  the  upper  country,  as  fast  as  possi- 
ble. In  effect,  a  great  many  islands  were  sunk,  new 
ones  raised,  and  the  bed  of  the  river  very  much 
changed  in  every  respect. 

After  the  earthquake  had  moderated  in  violence, 
the  country  exhibited  a  melancholy  aspect  of  chasms 
of  sand  covering  the  earth,  of  trees  thrown  down,  or 
lying  at  an  angle  of  forty-five' degrees,  or  split  in  the 
middle.  The  earthquakes  still  recurred  at  short  inter- 
vals, so  that  the  people  had  no  confidence  to  rebuild 
good  houses,  or  chimnies  of  brick.  The  Little  Prairie 
settlement  was  broken  up.  The  Great  Prairie  settle- 
ment, one  of  the  most  flourishing  before  on  the  west 
bank  of  the  Mississippi,  was  much  diminished.  New 
Madrid  again  dwindled  to  insignificance  and  decay ; 
the  people  trembling  in  their  miserable  hovels  at  the 
distant  and  melancholy  rumbling  of  the  approaching 
shocks.  The  general  government  passed  an  act,  al- 
lowing the  inhabitants  of  this  country  to  locate  the 
same  quantity  of  lands,  that  they  possessed  here,  in  any 
part  of  the  territory,  wrhere  the  lands  were  not  yet 
covered  by  any  claim.  These  claims  passed  into  the 
hands  of  speculators,  and  were  never  of  any  substan- 
tial benefit  to  the  possessors.  When  I  resided  there, 
this  district,  formerly  so  level,  rich,  and  beautiful,  had 
the  most  melancholy  of  all  aspects  of  decay,  the  to- 
kens of  former  cultivation  and  habitancy,  which  were 
now  mementos  of  desolation  and  desertion.  Large 
and  beautiful  orchards,  left  uninclosed,  houses  unin- 
habited, deep  chasms  in  the  earth,  obvious  at  frequent 
intervals, — such  was  the  face  of  the  country,  although 
the  people  had  for  years  become  so  accustomed  to 
frequent  and  small  shocks,  which  did  no  essential  in- 


228 


jury,  that  the  lands  were  gradually  rising  again  in 
value,  and  New  Madrid  was  slowly  rebuilding, 
with  frail  buildings,  adapted  to  the  apprehensions  of 
the  people. 


LETTER  XXI. — NEW  MADRID. 

In  the  family  of  the  excellent  Mrs-  Gray  we  passed 
a  very  pleasant  winter.  She  had  seen  seventy  winters 
and  was  the  living  chronicle  of  all  the  events  that  had 
happened  in  that  interesting  colony,  from  its  first  set- 
tlement. She  had  seen  families  of  fashion  and  opu- 
lence, from  "the  states,"  as  they  call  them, and  from  old 
France  settled  there, — had  seen  them  married  and  giv* 
en  in  marriage.  They  had  figured,  and  had  had  their 
petty  rivalries  and  displays  in  the  wilderness — 
had  melted  away,  and  were  gone.  Other  wonders  of 
distinction  and  greatness  had  come  from  other  and 
more  fashionable  regions  to  replace  them  ;  and  when 
I  was  there,  a  very  curious  collection  of  sketches  might 
easily  have  been  made  of  singular  characters, — singular 
for  the  standing  and  connexions  which  they  had  had 
in  other  countries,  singular  too  for  latent  and  intrinsic 
claims  to  distinction,  and  singular  as  furnishing  grounds 
for  the  remark  which  each  made  upon  the  other,  that 
it  was  astonishing  to  find  such  people  cast  in  such  a 
place. 

Such  reflections  have  often  forced  themselves  upon  me 
in  every  corner  of  this  country.  People,  learned,  dis- 
tinguished, rich,  highly  connected,  who  ought  to  have 
figured  in  any  place,  by  the  whimsical  freaks  of  what 
we  call  fortune,  are  thrown  upon  these  deserts,  and 


229 


fall  unknown,  un pitied,  unrecorded,  and  their  ashes 
mingle  with  the  soil  of  the  desert. 

In  the  very  place  where  I  am  writing  these  lines, 
it  was  but  two  years  since,  that  a  German  nobleman, 
a  professor  of  Gottingen,  a  man  gifted  in  the  highest 
degree,  who  left  behind  him  volumes  of  scientific  re- 
marks upon  the  natural  history  of  the  country,  died  an 
object  of  charity. 

The  venerable  narrator  of  the  history  of  New 
Madrid,  from  Morgan's  romantic  attempt,  through  all 
its  successive  changes  of  Spanish,  French,  and  Amer- 
ican times,  the  rise  and  fall  of  the  great  people,  the 
calamitous  events  of  the  earthquakes,  her  own  dis- 
astrous fortunes,  and  those  of  her  daughter, — was  her- 
self not  the  smallest  wonder  of  the  place.  She  had 
a  considerable  library,  was  perfectly  acquainted  with 
Plato,  spoke  of  him  as  familiarly  as  a  school  boy  does 
of  Washington,  had  all  the  great  ancients,  their  ex- 
ploits, and  respective  merits,  entirely  at  command. 
Her  daughter  had  lived  in  the  great  world  in  Natchez 
and  New  Orleans,  in  the  family  of  Mr.  Derbigny,  and 
in  the  families  of  two  of  the  greater  commandants,  and 
spoke  and  read  French,  as  well  as  English.  In  the 
midst  of  some  of  these  conversations,  prolonged  over 
the  winter  fire,  we  were  not  unfrequently  interrupted 
for  a  moment  by  the  distant  and  hollow  thunder  of 
the  approaching  earthquake.  An  awe,  a  slight  pale- 
ness passed  over  every  countenance.  The  narra- 
tive was  suspended  for  a  moment,  and  resumed. 

The  alluvial  country,  perfectly  level  and  inter- 
spersed with  small  prairies,  reaches  about  twenty 
miles  west  and  north  of  the  Mississippi.  The  inter- 
vening tract  between  this  low  country,  and  the  ridgy 
region  of  the  country  of  Cape  Girardeau  has  springs. 


230 


If  you  come  from  the  lower  country,  in  travelling 
from  the  city  of  New  Orleans  to  this  point,  you  pass 
but  one  place  where  the  bluffs  approach  near  to  the 
Mississippi, — but  one  place  where  there  are  springs  of 
water.  All  is  level  and  has  that  peculiar  configuration 
of  soil,  and  growth  of  trees  and  plants,  which  belong 
to  the  alluvion  of  the  Mississippi.  Here  you  begin  to 
mount  hills.  At  first  indeed  in  their  richness  and  the 
blackness  of  their  soil,  they  indicate  their  contiguity 
to  the  alluvial  country.  They  have  also  alluvial  for- 
est, pawpaw,  persimon,  and  more  than  all  the  stately 
yellow  poplar  :  they  are  fine  regular  undulations  in 
parallel  lines,  and  in  the  valleys  spring  out  beautiful 
fountains  of  water.  The  purer  breezes  of  the  upland 
country  fan  you.  You  drink  from  the  only  spring, 
one  place  only  excepted,  between  this  and  the  gulf  of 
Mexico.  I  cannot  easily  describe  the  sensations  I 
experienced  after  more  than  a  year's  residence  without 
seeing  a  hill,  a  stone  placed  by  nature  in  the  soil,  or  a 
spring,  when  I  began  to  ascend  these  noble  and  uni- 
form benches,  and  see  the  transparent  waters  coursing 
along  in  the  valleys.  Soon  after  you  ascend  them, 
you  come  to  a  broken  and  rather  hilly  country,  whose 
principal  growth  is  oak  ;  and  such  is  the  character 
of  the  country  of  Cape  Girardeau,  one  of  the 
most  populous  in  the  state.  From  here,  with  the  ex- 
ception of  comparatively  narrow  bottoms  of  the  Mis- 
sissippi and  the  intervening  streams,  such  is  the  char- 
acter of  the  country  quite  to  the  Missouri. 

There  is  one  curiosity  in  the  configuration  of  the 
country  as  you  approach  Cape  Girardeau,  ascending 
from  NevvMadrid — the  great  swamp.  It  is,  at  the 
place  of  crossing,  three  miles  wide.  The  waters  of 
St.  Francis  rise  in  it.    They  commence  within  a  few 


231 


rods  of  the  Mississippi  in  a  swamp,  considerably  low- 
er than  the  ordinary  level  of  the  river.  The  swamp 
begins  with  the  width  of  half  a  mile,  diverges  to  three 
miles'  width,  where  the  road  from  New  Madrid  cross- 
es it,  which  is  a  few  miles  from  the  Mississippi,  and 
continues  to  widen  until  it  becomes  in  some  places  six- 
ty miles  wide.  It  meanders,  like  the  Mississippi,  and 
extends  three  hundred  miles,  before  it  discharges  the 
St.  Francis  into  the  Mississippi,  although  it  arose  not 
a  hundred  yards  from  its  banks.  Its  soil  is  deep, 
black,  in  summer  dry,  except  where  the  waters  of 
St.  Francis  find  a  kind  of  channel  among  the  grass, 
and  is  a  vast  rice  swamp,  fitted  by  nature  for  the  cul- 
tivation of  that  valuable  grain  to  an  indefinite  extent. 

Cape  Girardeau  is  one  of  the  ancient  establishments 
of  the  country,  being  the  first  settlement  on  hills 
above  the  mouth  of  the  Ohio.  Here  was  the  resi- 
dence of  Lorimier,  so  famous  in  the  annals  of  that 
region,  a  rich  commandant,  who  married  a  Shawnese 
wife,  and  acquired  by  that  means,  and  by  his  largesses 
among  the  Indians,  an  unbounded  ascendency  among 
that  tribe,  and  the  Delawares.  Some  of  his  descend- 
ents  were  pupils  of  mine.  They  were  the  fourth 
generation  in  descent  from  the  squaw,  the  offspring  of 
a  German  father,  and  of  the  grand-daughter  of  Lori- 
mier. But  all  traces  of  the  Indian  feature  had  disap- 
peared. I  have  never  seen  fairer  complexions  than 
the  females  of  this  descent. 

The  centre  of  this  county  is  Jackson,  a  place  not 
yet  more  than  twelve  years  old.  Cape  Girardeau, 
the  original  seat  of  the  colony,  is  finely  situated  on  a 
commanding  bluff,  which  projects  in  a  noble  cape  into 
the  river.  But,  notwithstanding  its  very  advantage- 
ous position,  being  the  first  bluff  that  offers  a  site 


232 


for  a  town  above  the  mouth  of  the  Ohio,  caprice  in 
settling  the  country  has  placed  the  county  town  at 
Jackson,  twelve  miles  in  the  interior.  It  is  a  consid- 
erable village  on  a  hill,  with  the  Kentucky  outline  of 
dead  trees,  and  huge  logs  lying  on  all  sides  in  the 
fields.  Here  is  the  com pac test  settlement  in  the 
state,  a  thickly  timbered,  well  watered,  and  hilly  coun- 
try, furnishing  pure  hill-streams  and  mill-seats.  The 
soil  is  inferior,  compared  with  many  other  points  of 
the  state.  But  these  advantages  have  caused  a  mass 
of  settlers  to  fall  upon  the  oak  and  beech  wood,  and 
endure  the  severe  labour  of  cutting  down  the  trees  to 
form  plantations,  in  a  country,  where  there  are  mil- 
lions of  acres  of  the  richest  lands  lit  for  the  plough. 

Among  these  people  I  sojourned,  and  preached, 
more  than  a  year,  and  my  time  passed  more  devoid 
of  interest,  or  of  attachment,  or  comfort,  or  utility, 
than  in  any  other  part  of  the  country.  The  people 
are  extremely  rough.  Their  country  is  a  fine  range 
for  all  species  of  sectarians,  furnishing  the  sort  of 
people  in  abundance,  who  are  ignorant,  bigoted,  and 
think,  by  devotion  to  some  favoured  preacher  or  sect, 
to  atone  for  the  want  of  morals  and  decency,  and  every 
thing  that  appertains  to  the  spirit  of  Christianity. 

I  should  not  omit,  that  there  is  one  curiosity  here, — 
an  isolated  but  pure  German  settlement,  where  these 
people  have  in  fact  preserved  their  nationality,  and 
their  language  more  unmixed,  than  even  in  Pennsyl- 
vania. At  a  meeting  in  the  woods,  where  it  was  sup- 
posed four  hundred  German  people  were  present, 
there  were  not  half  a  dozen  people  of  English  de- 
scent. The  women  are  not  able  to  express  themselves 
well  in  English.  The  men,  though  they  understand 
the  colloquial  and  familiar  language,  yet  express  them- 


233 


selves  with  the  peculiar  German  accent,  pronunciation , 
and  phrase,  so  as  to  be  very  amusing,  if  not  some- 
times ludicrous.  They  are  principally  Lutherans,  and 
came  some  of  them  directly  from  Germany,  but  the 
greater  portion  from  North  Carolina  and  Pennsly- 
vania.  They  have  fixed  themselves  on  a  clear  and 
beautiful  stream  called  the  White-water,  which  runs 
twenty-five  miles,  and  loses  itself  in  the  great  swamp. 
Located  here  in  the  forest, — a  narrow  settlement  of 
Germans  unmixed  with  other  people,  having  little 
communication,  except  with  their  own  people,  and  lit- 
tle intercourse  with  the  world,  having  beside  all  the 
coarse  trades  and  manufactures  among  themselves, 
they  have  preserved  their  peculiarities  in  an  uncom- 
mon degree. 

They  are  anxious  for  religious  instruction,  and  love 
the  German  honesty  and  industry.  But  almost  every 
farmer  has  his  distillery,  and  the  pernicious  poison, 
whiskey,  dribbles  from  the  corn  ;  and  in  their  curious 
dialect,  they  told  me,  that  while  they  wanted  religion, 
and  their  children  baptized,  and  a  minister  as  exem- 
plary as  possible,  he  must  allow  the  honest  Dutch,  as 
they  call  themselves,  to  partake  of  the  native  beve- 
rage. And  they  undertook  to  prove,  that  the  swear- 
ing and  drunkenness  of  a  Dutchman  was  not  so  bad  as 
that  of  an  American.  One  of  them  was  reproved  for 
his  intemperance  and  profaneness,  and  it  was  remark- 
ed that  he  had  been  zealous  and  very  strict  in  his  reli- 
gious profession  in  Carolina.  46  Never  mind,"  said 
he,  f*  this  is  a  bad  country  for  religion.  I  know,  that 
I  have  lost  him,"  he  continued,  "  but  never  mind,  by 
and  by  the  good  breacher,"  as  he  phrased  it,  "  will 
come  along,  and  I  shall  pick  him  all  up  again." 
30 


234 


The  vast  size  of  their  horses,  their  own  gigantic 
size,  the  peculiar  dress  of  the  women,  the  child-like 
and  unsophisticated  simplicity  of  their  conversation, 
amused  me  exceedingly.  Nothing  could  afford  a 
more  striking  contrast  to  the  uniformity  of  manners 
and  opinions  among  their  American  neighbours.  I 
attended  a  funeral,  where  there  were  a  great  number 
of  them  present.  After  I  had  performed  such  services 
as  I  was  used  to  perform  on  such  occasions,  a  most 
venerable  looking  old  man,  of  the  name  of  Nyeswun- 
ger,  with  a  silver  beard  that  flowed  down  his  chin, 
came  forward  and  asked  me  if  I  were  willing  that  he 
should  perform  some  of  their  peculiar  rites.  I  of 
course  wished  to  hear  them.  He  opened  a  very  an- 
cient version  of  Luther's  hymns,  and  they  all  began  to 
sing  in  German,  so  loud  that  the  woods  echoed  the 
strain  ;  and  yet  there  was  something  affecting  in  the 
singing  of  these  ancient  people,  carrying  one  of  their 
brethren  to  his  long  home,  in  the  use  of  the  language 
and  rites  which  they  had  brought  with  them  over  the 
sea  from  "  fader  land,"  a  word  which  often  occurred 
in  their  hymn.  It  was  a  long,  loud,  and  mournful  air, 
w  hich  they  sung  as  they  bore  the  body  along.  The 
words  <4  mein  Gott,"  44  mein  hroder,"  and  64  fader 
land,"  died  away  in  distant  echoes  in  the  woods.  Re- 
membrances and  associations  rushed  upon  me,  and  I 
shall  long  remember  that  funeral  hymn. 

They  had  brought  a  minister  among  them,  of  the 
name  of  Weiberg,  or;  as  they  pronounced  it,  Wine- 
bo  rk  ;  an  educated  man,  but  a  notorious  drunkard. 
The  earnest  manner  in  which  he  performed  divine 
service  in  their  own  ritual,  and  in  their  own  language, 
carried  away  all  their  affections.  For, — like  other 
people  naturally  phlegmatic, — when  the  tide  once  gets 


235 


started,  it  sweeps  all  restraints  from  its  course.  After 
service  he  would  get  drunk,  and  as  often  happens 
among  them,  was  quarrelsome.  They  claimed  indul- 
gence to  get  drunk  themselves,  but  were  not  quite  so 
clear  in  allowing  their  minister  the  same  privilege. 
The  consequence  was,  that  when  the  time  came  round 
for  them  to  pay  their  subscription,  they  were  disposed 
to  refuse,  alleging,  as  justification,  his  un worthiness 
and  drunkenness.  He  had  for  three  successive  years 
in  this  way  commenced  and  recovered  suits  against 
them.  And  to  reinstate  himself  in  their  good  will,  it 
was  only  necessary  for  him  to  take  them  w  hen  a  suf- 
ficient quantity  of  whiskey  had  opened  their  phlegm- 
atic natures  to  sensibility,  and  then  give  them  a  vehe- 
ment discourse,  as  they  phrased  it,  in  the  pure  old 
Dutch,  and  give  them  a  German  hymn  of  his  own 
manufacture, — for  he  was  a  poet  too,— and  the  sub- 
scription paper  was  once  more  brought  forward.  They 
who  had  lost  their  suit,  and  had  been  most  inveterate 
in  their  dislike,  were  thawed  out,  and  crowded  about 
the  paper  either  to  sign  their  name  or  make  their 
mark. 

He  had  been  fairly  banished  by  a  common  feeling, 
when  I  was  there,  and  had  gone  to  a  German  swarm 
from  this  hive,  that  had  settled  upon  the  waters  of  the 
St.  Francis.  But  he  occasionally  returned  to  Germa- 
ny, as  it  was  called,  to  taste  their  whiskey  aud  cider ; 
for  they  had  productive  orchards.  He  came  to  the 
house  of  a  Madam  Ballinger,  where  I  usually  staid 
when  among  them.  "  Well,"  said  he,  44 1  judge  you 
will  now  get  good  fast,  now  that  you  have  a  Yankee 
breacher.  Does  he  know  one  word  of  Dutch  ? " 
"  Very  little,  I  suppose,"  she  replied  ;  but  in  order  to 
vindicate  her  preacher,  she  added,  "  but  he  knows 


236 


French,"  &c. ;  and  she  went  on  giving  my  knowledge 
of  various  languages,  according  to  her  own  fancy  : — 
"  And,  mein  Gott,  what  I  tinks  much  good,  he  does 
not  trink  one  trop  of  whiskey  !  " 

The  settlement  is  German,  also,  in  all  its  habits, — in 
their  taste  for  permanent  buildings,  and  their  disposi- 
tion to  build  with  stone,- — in  their  love  of  silver  dollars, 
and  their  contempt  of  bank-bills, — in  their  disposition 
to  manufacture  every  necessary  among  themselves.  I 
counted  forty-five  femate  dresses  hung  round  my  sleep- 
ing-room, all  of  cotton,  raised,  and  manufactured,  and 
coloured  in  the  family.  The  ladies  of  cities  are  not 
more  inwardly  gratified  with  the  possession  of  the  new- 
est and  most  costly  furniture,  than  these  good,  laborious, 
submissive,  and  silent  housewives  are,  in  hanging 
round  their  best  apartment  fifty  male  and  female  dress- 
es, all  manufactured  by  their  own  hand.  I  had  the 
good  fortune  to  be  very  acceptable  to  this  people,  al- 
though I  could  not  smoke,  drink  whiskey,  nor  talk 
German.  They  made  various  efforts  to  fix  my  family 
among  them.  And,  as  the  highest  expression  of  good 
will,  they  told  me  that  they  would  do  more  than  they 
had  done  for  Wei  berg. 

These  strong  features  of  nationality  are  very  strik- 
ing characteristics  in  this  country  universally.  The 
Germans,  the  French,  the  Anglo-Americans,  Scotch, 
and  Irish,  all  retain  and  preserve  their  national  man- 
ners and  prejudices.  Nothing  fosters  attachment  to 
every  thing  national,  like  residing  in  a  foreign  region, 
and  among  foreign  manners.  All  our  peculiar  ways 
of  thinking  and  acting  become  endeared  to  us  by  the 
unpleasant  contrast  of  foreign  manners,  and  become 
identified  with  our  best  possessions  by  national  pride. 
But  among  the  races  in  this  country,  the  Germans 


237 


succeed  decidedly  the  best ;  better,  even,  than  the 
Anglo-Americans.  They  have  no-  vagrant  imagina- 
tions ;  and  they  cast  a  single  look  over  the  forest  or 
prairie  which  they  have  purchased,  and  their  minds 
seize  intuitively  the  best  arrangement  and  division,  and 
their  farming  establishment  generally  succeeds.  They 
build  a  good  house  and  barn.  They  plant  a  large  or- 
chard. Their  fences,  their  gates,  all  the  appendages 
to  their  establishment,  are  strong  and  permanent. 
They  raise  large  horses  and  cattle.  They  spend  little, 
and  when  they  sell  will  receive  nothing  in  pay  but 
specie.  Every  stroke  counts  towards  improvement. 
Their  wives  have  no  taste  for  parties  and  tea.  Silent, 
unwearied  labour,  and  the  rearing  of  their  children, 
are  their  only  pursuits  ;  and  in  a  few  years  they  are 
comparatively  rich.  Next  to  them  in  prosperity  are 
the  Anglo-Americans.  Then  the  Scotch.  The  direct 
emigrants  from  England  are  only  superior  to  the 
French,  who  in  the  upper  country  have  succeeded  less 
than  any  other  people,  as  planters.  The  German  set- 
tlement in  Cape  Girardeau  extends  very  near  the 
French  settlement  of  St.  Genevieve ;  and  here  you 
have  the  strong  points  of  national  difference  brought  in 
direct  contrast.  The  one  race  is  generally  independ- 
ent in  their  condition  ;  the  other  produces  a  few  rich 
farmers,  but  is  generally  a  poor  race  of  hunters,  crowd- 
ed in  villages  with  mud  hovels,  fond  of  conversation  and 
coffee,  and  never  rises  from  a  state  of  indigence.  The 
difference  produces  a  corresponding  physical  difference 
even  in  the  body.  The  Germans  are  large,  stout,  and 
ruddy-looking  men  and  women.  The  poorer  French 
are  spare,  thin,  sallow,  and  tanned,  with  their  flesh 
adhering  to  their  bones,  and  apparently  dried  to  the 
Consistency  of  parchment, 


238 


The  year  which  I  passed  in  New  Madrid,  and  the 
counties  of  Cape  Girardeau  and  St.  Genevieve,  afford- 
ed me  great  opportunities  to  compare  the  habits  of 
these  various  races,  as  they  are  more  mixed  in  their 
population  in  this  region  than  elsewhere.  As  it  re- 
spects their  religious  opinions,  there  are  considerable 
settlements  north  of  Jackson,  that  came  in  a  body 
from  North  Carolina ;  they  are  generally  Presbyte- 
rians, and  professors  of  religion.  The  Germans,  as  I 
have  remarked,  are  generally  Lutherans.  The  Bap- 
tists, the  Cumberland  Presbyterians,  and  the  Method- 
ists have  many  societies,  and  the  Catholics  have  a 
large  settlement  here,  composed  of  French  and  Irish, 
extending  from  St.  Genevieve  to  the  county  of  Cape 
Girardeau.  Half  way  between  these  regions,  they 
have  a  large  and  rather  conspicuous  building,  a  semi- 
nary for  the  rearing  of  Catholic  priests,  where  there 
were  constantly  a  convent  of  Hives  preparing  for  the 
ministry. 

One  general  trait  appears  to  me  strongly  to  charac- 
terize this  region  in  a  religious  point  of  view.  They 
are  anxious  to  collect  a  great  many  people  and  preach- 
ers, and  achieve,  if  the  expression  may  be  allowed,  a 
great  deal  of  religion  at  once,  that  they  may  lie  by, 
and  be  exempt  from  its  rules  and  duties  until  the  regu- 
lar recurrence  of  the  period  for  replenishing  the  ex- 
hausted stock.  Hence  we  witness  the  melancholy 
aspect  of  much  appearance  and  seeming,  frequent 
meetings,  spasms,  cries,  fallings,  faintings,  and,  what 
I  Imagine  will  be  a  new  aspect  of  religious  feeling  to 
most  of  my  readers,  the  religious  laugh.  Nothing  is 
more  common  at  these  scenes,  than  to  see  the  more 
forward  people  on  these  occasions  indulging  in  what 
seemed  to  me  an  idiot  and  spasmodic  laugh,  and  when 


239 


I  asked  what  it  meant,  I  was  told  it  was  the  holy 
laugh  !  Preposterous  as  the  term  may  seem  to  my 
readers,  the  phrase  "  holy  laugh  w  is  so  familiar  to  me, 
as  no  longer  to  excite  surprise.  But  in  these  same 
regions,  and  among  these  same  people,  morals,  gen- 
uine tenderness  of  heart,  and  capacity  to  be  guided 
either  by  reason,  persuasion,  or  the  uniform  dictates 
of  the  gospel,  was  an  affecting  desideratum. 


LETTER  XXL — J  A  CKSON. 

I  have  often  witnessed  in  this  country  a  most  im- 
pressive view,  which  I  do  not  remember  to  have  seen 
noticed  by  any  travellers  who  have  preceded  me.  It  is 
the  burning  of  the  prairies.  It  is  visible  at  times  in  all 
parts  of  Missouri,  but  nowhere  writh  more  effect  than 
in  St.  Louis.  The  tall  and  thick  grass  that  grows  in  the 
prairies  that  abound  through  all  the  country,  is  fired  ; 
most  frequently  at  that  season  of  the  year,  called 
Indian  summer.  The  moon  rises  with  a  broad  disk, 
and  of  a  bloody  hue,  upon  the  smoky  atmosphere. 
Thousands  of  acres  of  grass  are  burning  in  all  direc- 
tions. In  the  wTide  prairies  the  advancing  front  of 
flame  often  has  an  extent  of  miles.  Many  travellers, 
arrested  by  these  burnings,  have  perished.  The  crim- 
son-coloured flames,  seen  through  the  dim  atmosphere, 
in  the  distance  seem  to  rise  from  the  earth  to  the  sky. 
The  view,  before  the  eye  becomes  familiarized  with 
it,  is  grand,  I  might  almost  say  terrific ;  for  nothing 
has  ever  given  me  such  a  striking  image  of  our  con- 
ceptions of  the  final  conflagration. 


240 


It  would  require  a  long  chapter,  written  by  an  ob- 
serving physician,  to  give  an  account  of  the  diseases 
of  the  country.  I  shall  only  remark  in  passing,  that 
diseases  of  the  lungs  are  less  frequent  than  at  the 
North.  The  general  type  of  the  disorders  is  bilious. 
When  the  fevers  are  continued,  they  are  terrible,  and 
too  often  fatal.  But  most  of  the  fevers  are  either  re- 
mittents or  intermittents,  and  when  skilfully  managed 
are  seldom  mortal.  Intermittent  fevers  are  common 
and  very  troublesome.  They  are  easily  managed,  but 
are  apt  to  return.  Their  frequent  returns,  and  the 
course  of  medicine  necessary  to  check  them,  soon 
break  down  the  constitution.  Rheumatism  and  drop- 
sical affections  are  common  in  the  country.  The  two 
grand  remedies,  and  what  almost  completes  the  list  of 
medicines  used  here,  are  bark  and  calomel. 

In  looking  into  the  condition  of  the  emigrants  in 
the  northern  section  of  the  valley  of  the  Mississippi, 
in  hearing  numberless  narratives  from  the  people,  of 
their  condition  in  the  regions  from  which  they  emi- 
grated, in  remarking  the  strong  affection  which  they 
almost  universally  retain  for  their  own  country,  and 
the  place  of  their  birth,  in  the  almost  universal  betray- 
ing of  feelings  of  regret,  and  a  disposition  to  consider 
their  place  of  residence  as  a  banishment, — feelings  that 
are  often  transmitted  to  their  children, — I  have  been 
often  led  in  my  own  mind  to  contrast  the  apparent  ad- 
vantages and  disadvantages  of  emigration  to  this 
country.  The  advantages  of  the  ancient  residence,  I 
have  laid  in  the  portions  of  the  Atlantic  country  with 
which  I  am  most  acquainted,  the  New  England  states, 
and  I  may  add,  New  York.  Nor  let  any  of  my  read- 
ers smile  at  such  speculations,  as  belonging  to  the  tire- 
some and  common-place  declamations  about  happiness, 


241 


which  eke  out  so  many  sermons  and  essays.  One 
hundred  thousand  New  Englanders,  resident  in  these 
regions,  have  already  made  their  election  ;  and  thou- 
sands more  will  continually  be  following.  If  a  fair  and 
faithful  balance  could  be  struck,  between  the  real 
amount  of  comfort  and  enjoyment  of  these  people,  be- 
fore and  after  their  immigration,  it  would  be  very  far 
from  being  an  abstract  question  about  happiness.  It 
might  form  the  basis  of  a  calculation,  that  would  de- 
termine those  who  were  in  suspense  about  emigration, 
either  to  go  or  stay.  And  fortunately  for  New  Eng- 
land, the  increasing  demand  for  manufacturers  will 
find  employment  for  her  sons,  if  they  prefer  the  land 
where  are  the  graves  of  their  fathers  and  mothers, 
without  coming  to  these  distant  regions. 

The  disadvantages  of  immigration  are  of  a  mixed 
character,  partaking  partly  of  a  physical,  and  partly, 
but  much  more,  of  a  moral  nature.  The  inducements 
to  emigration  arise,  as  most  of  our  actions  do,  from 
mixed  motives.  There  is  more  of  the  material  of  po- 
etry than  we  imagine,  diffused  through  all  the  classes 
of  the  community.  And  upon  this  part  of  the  charac- 
ter it  is,  that  the  disposition  to  emigration  operates, 
and  brings  in  aid  the  influence  of  its  imperceptible  but 
magic  power.  Very  few,  except  the  Germans,  em- 
igrate simply  to  find  better  and  cheaper  lands.  The 
notion  of  new  and  more  beautiful  woods  and  streams, 
of  a  milder  climate,  deer,  fish,  fowl,  game,  and  all 
those  delightful  images  of  enjoyment,  that  so  readily 
associate  with  the  idea  of  the  wild  and  boundless 
license  of  new  regions  ;  all  that  restless  hope  of  finding 
in  a  new  country,  and  in  new  views  and  combinations 
of  things,  something  that  we  crave  but  have  not. — 
1  am  ready  to  believe,  from  my  own  experience,  and 
31 


242 


from  what  I  have  seen  in  the  case  of  others,  that  this 
influence  of  imagination  has  no  inconsiderable  agency 
in  producing  emigration.  Indeed,  the  saturnine  and 
illiterate  emigrant  may  not  be  conscious  that  such  mo- 
tives had  any  agency  in  fixing  him  in  his  purpose. 
But  I  need  not  observe,  that  those  who  examine  most 
earnestly  what  passes  in  their  own  minds,  are  not 
always  aware  of  all  the  elements  of  motive  that  de- 
termine their  actions.  They  arrive,  after  long  and 
diversified,  but  generally  painful  journies,  painful,  es- 
pecially if  they  have  young  and  helpless  members  in 
their  families,  in  the  region  for  which  they  started. 
The  first  difficulty,  and  it  is  not  a  small  one,  is,  among 
an  infinite  variety  of  choices,  whereto  fix.  The  spec- 
ulator, the  surveyor,  the  different  circles,  all  propose 
different  places,  and  each  vaunts  the  exclusive  excel- 
lence of  his  choice.  If  the  emigrant  is  a  reader,  he 
betakes  himself  to  the  papers,  and  in  the  infinity  of 
advertisements,  his  uncertainty  is  increased.  Some, 
under  these  circumstances,  try  all  places.  I  lodged  at 
the  house  of  a  Baptist  exhorter,  a  very  aged  man,  who 
had  made  seven  distant  removes  in  less  than  three  hun- 
dred miles,  being  too  short  a  distance  to  give  him  a 
new  trial. 

After  the  long  uncertainty  of  choice  is  finally  fixed, 
— which  is  not  till  after  the  expenses  and  the  lapse  of 
a  year, — a  few  weeks'  familiar  acquaintance  with  the 
scene  dispels  the  charms  and  the  illusions  of  the  im- 
agination. The  earth,  the  water,  and  the  wood  of 
/"  these  distant  lands,  are  found  to  be  the  same  well 
known  realities  of  his  own  country.  .Hunting,  though 
the  game  be  plenty,  is  a  laborious  and  unproductive 
business,  and  every  thing  visionary  and  unreal  gradu- 
ally gives  way  to  truth  and  reality.    Apart  from  the 


243 

pain  of  breaking  off  ties  that  were  knit  with  our  exist- 
ence, I  know  not  if  others  feel  in  any  degree  as  I  do? 
the  melancholy  sensations  resulting  from  seeing  every 
thing  about  me  new  and  strange.  Bat  I  feel  as 
though  in  the  midst  of  a  nature  aud  objects  long  famil- 
iar to  me,  there  were  some  secret  sympathy  between 
that  nature  and  myself.  If  others  feel  this  to  be  so, 
and  I  think  they  do,  the  immigrant  experiences  not  only 
the  gloom  of  seeing  himself  among  strangers  to  him- 
self, to  his  country,  to  his  opinions,  and  habits/ but  he 
is  even  in  the  midst  of  a  nature  that  looks  upon  him 
as  an  intruder.  What  an  affecting  circumstance  is 
that  of  the  Jews  depositing  the  body  in  a  position 
directed  towards  Jerusalem,  and  putting  into  the  grave 
a  handful  of  earth  from  that  fondly  remembered  land. 

It  would  seem  puerile,  perhaps,  to  relate  what  a 
current  of  recollections  has  been  excited  in  me  in 
autumn,  on  seeing  flocks  of  our  northern  robins  in  the 
woods  of  Missouri.  Near  the  house  of  Mr.  Jamieson 
at  Bonhomme,  I  saw  early  in  the  spring  a  flock  of 
those  merry  and  chattering  birds,  that  we  call 
bob-a-link,  or  French  black-bird.  They  were  seen 
that  season  for  the  first  time  in  Missouri.  Every  one 
at  the  North  knows,  that  they  are  the  delight  of  our 
meadows,  about  the  season  of  planting,  that  they 
chatter  almost  to  tiresomeness,  and  with  every  northern 
man,  they  are  associated  with  the  most  delightful 
remembrances  of  his  boyhood.  I  cannot  describe, 
how  long  and  painfully  these  notes  turned  my  thoughts 
upon  my  own  country.  Many  of  these  recollections 
are  continually  intruding  to  recall  the  feelings  and  the 
thoughts  of  a  distant  home,  never  to  be  seer* 
again. 


244 


Then  the  emigrant  in  the  pride  of  his  remembrances 
begins  to  extol  his  own  country,  its  laws,  habits,  and 
men.  The  listener  has  the  same  prejudices.  The 
pride  of  the  one  wounds  that  of  the  other.  The 
weakness  of  human  nature  is  never  more  obvious, 
than  in  meetings  of  immigrants  from  different  coun- 
tries, each  extolling  his  own,  as  the  best  and  happiest 
in  the  world.  Every  person  who  has  passed  the  same 
number  of  years  in  the  same  country  with  myself, 
can  supply  a  thousand  recollections.  No  doubt, 
there  are  people  here,  zealous  and  honest  patriots, 
who  love  these  new  and  adopted  states,  as  well  as  the 
New-England er  loves  his  own  country.  But  we  well 
know,  that  love  of  country,  like  love  of  parents,  is  an 
innate  and  deeply  rooted  feeling ;  and  when  we  leave 
our  native  country,  like  a  tree  torn  up  by  the  roots,  it 
does  not  instantly  flourish  in  another.  A  kind  of  des- 
olation of  heart,  that  results  from  feeling  himself  an 
alien  in  a  strange  land,  long  afflicts  the  resident  in 
these  new  countries. 

I  think  too,  that  the  character  of  our  feelings  in 
retrospection  contributes  to  the  same  issue.  In  re- 
membering the  past,  we  forget  the  painful  and  re- 
collect the  pleasant.  It  is  this  probably  which  ren- 
ders the  delights  of  youth  so  dear  to  the  remembrance. 
All  the  vivid  perceptions  of  enjoyment  are  keenlj-  recol- 
lected, the  sorrows  are  overlooked  or  forgotten.  The 
distant  birthplace,  the  residence  of  the  years  that  are 
gone,  remembered  amidst  the  actual  struggles  in  form- 
ing a  new  establishment,  living  in  anew  world,  getting 
acquainted  with  a  new  nature,  and  competing  with 
strangers,  who  in  the  mind  of  an  emigrant,  as  they 
did  to  an  old  Roman,  seem  much  like  enemies. 
These  remembrances,  rendered  more  delightful  by  the 


245 


actual  contrast  of  the  present,  come  up  to  embitter 
the  present.  We  cannot  in  any  way  understand  so 
fully  the  force  of  habit  as  in  moving  to  a  new  coun- 
try. We  can  hardly  anticipate  beforehand,  how  many 
old  enjoyments  and  ways  of  passing  life,  we  are 
obliged  to  forego,  and  even  to  take  up  new  ones 
in  their  room.  Then  there  are  new  laws,  new  in- 
stitutions, new  ways  of  rearing  children,  supporting 
schools,  and  in  short  a  complete  change  of  the  whole 
circle  of  associations,  feelings,  and  habits. 

To  a  regularly  disciplined  inhabitant  of  the  North, 
it  is  not  among  the  smallest  of  deprivations,  that  there 
is  no  church-going  bell,  no  going  to  the  house  of  God 
in  company.  Preaching  is  uncommon,  and  when 
heard,  is  altogether  different  from  the  calm  and  rea- 
soning sobriety  of  the  discourses  which  he  used  to 
hear.  There  is  a  deficiency  of  those  little  circles  of 
company,  into  which  he  used  to  drop,  to  relax  a  day 
or  an  evening,  which  it  may  be  were  not  much  prized 
in  the  enjoyment,  but  which  are  severely  felt  in  the 
deprivation.  He  sees,  too,  his  fellow  mortal  struggle 
and  die.  The  horror  of  the  scene  is  not  softened, 
as  at  the  North,  by  hearing  the  voice  of  prayer  about 
the  bed.  The  mind  is  not  soothed  with  the  accents 
of  hope  and  the  anticipations  of  immortality.  It  is 
too  often  a  scene  of  sullen  submission  on  the  one  part, 
and  careless  indifference  on  the  other,  and  nothing 
shocks  him  more,  than  to  see  the  people  assemble, 
and  carry  the  body  to  its  long  home,  without  prayer 
or  any  religious  ceremony.  I  need  not  go  on  to  add 
circumstances  of  regret,  or  of  painful  remembrance, 
that  suggest  themselves  to  me,  as  parts  of  the  unhappi- 
ness  of  an  immigrant,  nor  need  I  observe,  that  there 
are  hundreds  of  them,  who  have  as  little  feeling  upon 


246 


all  these  points,  as  their  brutes.  But  in  hearing  the 
people  from  every  country,  who  are  well  and  com- 
fortably situated,  who  have  the  conveniences  and  the 
luxuries  of  life,  so  often  speak  of  their  condition  in  the 
tone  of  repining;  in  hearing  them  so  constantly  culling 
up  the  fond  recollections  of  home,  and,  in  so  many  in- 
stances, looking  through  the  vista  of  time,  with  the  ulti- 
mate hope  of  returning  to  spend  their  last  days,  and  die 
where  their  first  days  werespent,  I  have  been  aware 
that  feelings  of  the  class  above  described  must  have 
contributed  to  this  state  of  mind. 

There  are  some  physical  disadvantages.  New  dis- 
eases, and  the  terror  annexed  to  evils,  that  are  coloured 
by  the  imagination,  the  exhorbitance  of  the  charges  of 
physicians,  these  are  the  most  prominent  physical  diffi- 
culties. 

There  is  in  all  parts  of  this  country  a  much  warm- 
er •summer,  more  debilitating  and  exhausting  in  its 
effects,  than  the  summer  of  the  North.  In  some 
parts,  and  in  some  seasons,  musquitoes  are  excessive- 
ly troublesome,  while  in  others  there  are  not  more 
than  there  are  at  the  North.  The  grains  are  equally 
good,  perhaps  better.  The  wheat  is  certainly  larger, 
and  the  flour  finer  and  softer.  Orchards  flourish^ 
and  the  trees  bear  much  sooner  than  at  the  North,  and 
the  fruit  is  larger  and  fairer,  but  less  flavoured,  and 
more  insipid  ;  and  a  proof  of  this  is,  that  the  cider 
has  not  the  same  vinous  strength,  and  requires  boil- 
ing to  gain  body  enough  to  keep  without  passing 
immediately  through  the  vinous  into  the  acetous  fer- 
mentation. Strange  as  it  may  seem,  in  this  rich 
soil,  and  under  this  powerful  sun,  all  the  roots  and 
vegetables  are  more  tasteless,  than  those  of  the  North. 
It  is  instantly  perceived,  that  the  onion  is  more  mild, 


247 


the  blood  beet  less  deeply  coloured,  and  this  thing 
holds  good,  as  far  as  my  experience  goes,  in  the  whole 
vegetable  creation.  Take  every  thing  into  consid- 
eration, this  is  not  so  good  a  country  for  gardens. 
The  Irish  potatoe,  the  best  of  vegetables,  is  raised 
in  the  states  west  of  the  Ohio,  but  not  with  the  same 
ease,  or  abundance,  or  goodness,  as  at  the  North. 
The  seed  soon  degenerates ;  a  bushel  of  maize  is 
raised  much  easier,  than  a  bushel  of  potatoes.  They 
have  a  substitute,  it  is  true,  in  the  sweet  potatoe. 
Cabbages  and  peas,  owing  to  the  burning  heat  of  the 
sun,  and  the  dryness  of  the  seasons,  are  inferior  in 
quality  and  abundance.  The  tender  vegetables  of  a 
garden  generally  prefer  a  milder  sun  and  cooler  air. 
There  are  people,  who  stoutly  contest  the  point, 
that  the  meats  are  not.  inferior.  It  is  generally  con- 
ceded, that  beef  is  so,  and  my  impression  is,  that  all 
the  meats,  not  excepting  fowls,  are  so. 

But  of  all  the  physical  inconveniences  of  the  coun- 
try, exposure  to  the  ague  is  undoubtedly  the  worst. 
This  is  not  an  universal  evil,  and  will  undoubtedly 
lessen  with  the  increase  of  improvement  and  cultiva- 
tion. The  difficulty  of  finding  a  market  for  the  sur- 
plus produce,  is  not  a  diminutive  evil.  There  is  not 
that  ease  and  certainty  of  raising  a  small  sum  of 
money  by  sending  the  articles  of  the  farm  to  a  sure 
market.  The  plan  of  sending  in  flat  boats  to  New 
Orleans  the  surplus  of  the  farms,  will  not  answer  in 
such  an  overstocked  market  as  that,  except  when  the 
Mississippi  boats  can  get  down  early,  and  before  the 
market  is  glutted.  All  articles  of  life  in  Illinois  and 
Missouri  have  been,  for  some  years,  below  what  the 
planters  could  afford  to  raise  them  for,  with  any  view 
beyond  domestic  consumption. 


248 


For  the  three  past  years  the  grain  boats  from  Mis  - 
souri have  scarcely  paid  the  expense  of  their  build- 
ing and  transport  to  New  Orleans.  The  difficulty  of 
paying  taxes,  and  finding  money  for  those  articles 
which  were  originally  luxuries,  and  have  come  by 
use  to  be  necessaries,  is  great.  Hence  even  the  afflu- 
ent settlers  in  these  states  are  obliged  in  a  great 
measure  to  forego  wines  and  brandies,  and  to  be  very 
moderate  in  the  use  of  tea,  coffee,  and  foreign  sugar. 
Many  other  little  items  of  luxury  and  comfort  come 
too  high  and  too  hard  for  common  use.  There  is  a 
great  abundance  and  variety  of  wild  fowl,  and  tur- 
keys, prairie  hens,  and  partridges,  and  in  their  sea- 
son, wild  geese  and  ducks.  And  on  the  other  hand, 
the  fish,  though  near  the  Mississippi  in  sufficient 
abundance,  are  coarse  and  tasteless.  The  salted  shad 
and  mackerel  of  the  North  are  here  brought  to  the 
table  as  luxuries.  Such  are  some  of  the  obvious  in- 
conveniences of  the  country. 

We  may  justly  remark,  that  man  is  every  where  a 
dissatisfied  and  complaining  animal ;  and  if  he  had 
a  particle  of  unchanged  humanity  in  him,  would  find 
reasons  for  complaining  and  repining  in  paradise.  It 
is  to  be  observed,  that  most  of  the  causes  of  dissatis- 
faction and  disquietude  are  in  the  mind  and  in  the 
imagination,  are  unreal,  and  may  be  overcome  by  that 
effort,  equally  called  for  by  common  sense,  philosophy, 
and  religion,  which  is  made  to  vanquish  all  sorrow  but 
that  which  is  unavoidable  and  incurable.  In  my 
view,  after  all  the  evils  of  the  condition  of  an  immi- 
grant are  considered,  there  is  a  great  balance  of  real 
and  actual  advantages  in  his  favour.  There  is  much 
in  that  real  and  genuine  American  independence, 
which  is  possessed  by  an  industrious  and  frugal  plant- 


249 


er  in  a  great  degree.  A  Missouri  planter,  with  a 
moderate  force  and  a  good  plantation,  can  be  as  in- 
dependent as  it  is  fit  that  we  should  be.  He  can 
raise  the  materials  for  manufacturing  his  own  clothing. 
He  has  the  greatest  abundance  of  every  thing  within 
himself;  an  abundance  in  all  the  articles,  except 
those  which  have  been  enumerated,  as  not  naturally 
congenial  to  the  climate,  of  which  a  northern  farmer 
has  no  idea.  One  of  my  immediate  neighbours,  on 
the  prairie  below  St.  Charles,  had  a  hired  white 
man,  a  negro,  and  two  sons  large  enough  to  begin  to 
htlp  him.  He  had  an  hundred  acres  enclosed.  He 
raised,  the  year  that  I  came  away,  two  thousand  four 
hundred  bushels  of  corn,  eight  hundred  bushels  of 
wheat,  and  other  articles  in  proportion,  and  the  num- 
ber of  cattle  and  hogs  that  he  might  raise  was  indefi- 
nite ;  for  the  pasturage  and  h  vy  were  as  sufficient  for  a 
thousand  cattle  as  for  twenty.  If  the  summer  be  hot, 
the  autumns  are  longer  and  far  more  beautiful,  and  the 
winters  much  milder  and  drier,  than  at  the  North,  and 
the  snow  seldom  falls  more  than  six  inches.  Owing 
to  the  dryness  and  levelness  of  the  country,  the  roads 
are  good,  and  passing  is  always  easy  and  practi  able. 
Any  person,  able  and  disposed  to  labour,  is  forever 
freed  from  the  apprehension  of  poverty  ;  and  let  phi- 
losophers in  their  bitter  irony  pronounce  as  many 
eulogies  as  they  may  on  poverty,  it  is  a  bitter  evil, 
and  all  its  fruits  are  bitter.  We  need  not  travel 
these  wilds  in  order  to  understand  what  a  blessing  it 
is  to  be  freed  forever  from  the  apprehension  of  this 
evil.  Even  here  there  are  sick,  and  there  is  little 
sympathy;  no  poor  laws,  no  resource  but  in  the  char- 
ity of  a  people  not  remarkable  for  their  feeling. 
32 


250 


Thence  it  results,  that  there  are  the  more  induce- 
ments to  form  families,  and  those  ties,  which  are  tSie 
cause,  that  while  one  is  sick  the  rest  are  bound  for  bis 
nursing  and  sustenance.    A  father  can  settle  his  chil- 
dren about  him.    They  need  not  be  6i  hewers  of  wood 
and  drawers  of  water."    A  vigorous  and  active  young 
man  needs  but  two  years  of  personal  labour  to  have 
a  farm  ready  for  the  support  of  a  small  family. 
There  is  less  need  of  labour  for  actual  support.  The 
soil  is  free  from  stones,  loose  and  mellow,  and  needs 
no  manure,  and  it  is  very  abundant  in  the  produc- 
tions natural  to  it,  the  principal  of  which  are  corn, 
fruits,  and  wheat.     The  calculation  is  commonly 
made,  that  two  days  in  a  week  contribute  as  much 
to  support  here,  as  the  whole  w?eek  at  the  North. 
Plenty  of  hay  can  be  cut  in  the  prairies  to  answer  for 
working  cattle  and  horses  in  the  periods  when  the 
season  is  too  severe,  and  where  the  rushes  and  pea- 
vines  are  eaten  out,  and,  in  the  more  southern  districts, 
the  cane,  so  as  to  require  the  cattle  to  be  fed. 

The  objection  commonly  made  is,  that  this  ease  of 
subsistence  fosters  idleness.  But  it  is  equally  true, 
that  this  depends  entirely  on  the  person,  and  a  man 
of  good  principles  and  habits  will  find  useful  and 
happy  employment  for  all  that  time,  which  the  wants 
of  actual  subsistence  do  not  require.  The  orchards, 
if  the  fruit  be  not  so  highly  flavoured,  are  much  easier 
created  ;  the  fruits  are  fairer  and  more  abundant. 
The  smaller  fruits,  plumbs,  peaches,  quinces,  and  the 
fruit-bearing  shrubs,  are  indigenous,  and  are  raised 
with  great  facility.  If  the  garden  is  inferior  in  some 
respects,  it  is  superior  in  others,  as  in  the  size  of  the 
tap-rooted  vegetables,  especially  beets,  parsnips,  car- 
rots, and  radishes.    I  have  seen  one  of  the  latter  per- 


25\ 


fectly  fair,  taper,  and  of  a  fine  colour,  as  large  as  a 
man's  leg,  and  weighing  seven  pounds.  The  fields 
are  made  at  once,  and  are  the  second  year  in  their 
highest  state  of  productiveness.  For  sickness,  more 
can  he  done  in  this  country  by  way  of  preventive, 
than  by  way  of  remedy.  Every  family  ought  to  have 
a  good  author  upon  domestic  medicine,  if  such  can  be 
found,  and  a  medicine  chest.  People  who  take  this 
precaution  suffer,  perhaps,  as  little  from  sickness 
here,  as  elsewhere.  For,  as  I  have  remarked  in  an- 
other place,  the  disorders  are  more  manageable  than 
at  the  North.  With  respect  to  society,  all  that  the 
emigrant  has  to  do  is  to  bridle  his  tongue  and  his 
temper,  cultivate  good  feelings  and  kind  affections, 
and  meet  every  advance  of  his  neighbours  with  an 
honest  disposition  to  reorganize  in  the  deserts, — 
where  they  have  met  from  distant  regions  and  coun- 
tries,— an  harmonious  and  affectionate  interchange  of 
mutual  kind  offices. 

As  it  respects  that  nationality,  which  forms  so  strik- 
ing a  feature  in  the  people  of  the  western  country, 
men  of  education  and  enlargement  of  mind  are  every 
day  operating  upon  the  community  to  lay  aside  their 
prejudices,  such  as  judging  of  men  by  their  coun- 
try, or  being  prepossessed  for  or  against  them  on  ac- 
count of  the  place  of  their  birth.  One  of  the  first 
things  that  a  man,  who  is  capable  of  learning  any 
thing  iu  this  country,  learns,  is  the  folly  of  selecting 
his  associates  according  to  their  country,  or  of  having 
his  friends  and  companions  of  the  same  country  with 
himself.  He  sees  good  and  bad,  promiscuously,  from 
all  countries,  and  soon  learns  to  try  and  weigh  men 
hy  their  character,  and  not  by  the  place  of  birth. 
During  the  ten  years  of  my  acquaintance  with  the 


252 


country,  I  have  discovered  these  feelings  lessening 
in  every  place.  Educated  men  and  women  are  alike, 
and  have  many  feelings  and  thoughts  in  common, 
come  from  what  country  they  may.  The  time  will 
come  and  is  rapidly  approaching,  when  all  local  par- 
tialities will  be  merged  in  the  pride  of  being  a  citizen 
of  our  great  and  free  country,  a  country  which  is 
destined  shortly  to  make  a  most  distinguished  figure 
among  the  nations. 

For  myself,  the  western  country  is  endeared  to  me 
by  a  thousand  recollections.  Its  beautiful  scenery  has 
left  iraces  in  my  memory,  which  will  never  be  effaced. 
The  hospitality  of  its  inhabitants  to  me,  and  to  those 
who  are  most  dear  to  me,  has  marked  on  my  heart 
deep  impressions  of  gratitude.  I  hail  the  anticipation, 
that  in  a  century  to  come  it  will  be  a  great  and  pop- 
ulous country,  as  great  in  a  moral  point  of  view,  as  it 
is  at  present  rich  in  natural  resource  and  beauty. 
And  taking  leave  of  the  upper  country,  where  I  have 
suffered  and  enjoyed  so  much,  I  might  say  w  salve, 
magna  parens/5  or,  in  a  still  higher  phrase,  "  peace 
be  within  thy  walls." 


LETTER  XXII.— ARKANSAS. 

May  5,  1819.  We  were  swept  round  by  the  strong 
current  of  the  Mississippi  in  our  keel-boat  between 
two  green  islands  covered  with  rushes  and  cotton- 
wood  trees,  into  a  small  bay  which  receives  the 
waters  of  White  River.  This  is  all  a  region  of  deep 
and  universal  inundation.  There  was  from  six  to  ten 
feet  water  over  all  the  bottoms  ;  and  we  had  a  wide 


253 


display  of  that  spectacle  so  common  in  the  spring  on 
the  Mississippi,— a  dense  forest  of  the  largest  trees, 
vocal  with  the  song  of  birds,  matted  with  every  spe- 
cies of  tangled  vegetation,  and  harbouring  in  great 
numbers  the  turkey  buzzard,  and  some  species  of 
eagles  ;  and  all  this  vegetation  apparently  rising  from 
the  bosom  of  dark  and  discoloured  waters.  I  have 
never  seen  a  deeper  forest  except  of  evergreens.  The 
channel  of  White  River  was  distinguished  by  its  cur- 
rent, the  green  colour  of  its  waters,  compared  with 
the  Whitewaters  of  the  Mississippi,  and  by  an  open 
channel,  marked  by  willows  in  full  foliage,  which  so 
nearly  resembled  the  leaves  of  the  peach  -tree,  that  I 
asked  one  of  the  boatmen  who  was  familiar  with  the 
country,  what  kind  of  tree  it  was,  who  answered  with 
much  solemnity,  that  it  was  the  wild  peach.  It  was  a 
new  order  of  things  to  stem  the  current,  and  go  up 
stream,  after  floating  five  hundred  miles  before  the 
heavy  current  of  the  Missouri  and  Mississippi.  The 
current  came  down  the  river  at  the  rate  of  three  miles 
an  hour.  It  seemed  about  three  hundred  and  fifty 
yards  in  width,  and  at  this  time  had  fifty  feet  of  water 
in  depth.  In  ascending  we  were  struck  with  the 
grandeur  of  the  forest,  the  immense  size  of  the  trees, 
and  their  dark  green  foliage.  The  inundation  ex- 
tends itself  almost  indefinitely  on  all  sides.  It  is  late 
in  the  season  before  the  floods  recede  :  and  fever, 
musquitoes,  alligators,  serpents,  bears,  and  now  and 
then  parties  of  hunting  Indians,  are  the  only  tenants 
of  these  woods. 

The  river  received  its  name  from  the  Indians,  on 
account  of  its  pellucid  waters.  They  are  in  appear- 
ance rather  green  than  white  ;  and  we  could  see  the 
huge  cat-fish  gamboling  in  the  waters,  among  multi- 

A 


254 


tudes  of  fishes  of  all  classes.  We  eagerly  threw  them 
the  hook  and  line ;  but  the  flooded  streams  and  swamps 
offered  them  such  an  abundance  of  food,  that  we  tried 
to  tempt  them  with  our  bait  in  vain  We  made  our 
way  up  this  opening  in  the  dark  forest  between  five 
and  six  miles,  when  we  discovered  a  lateral  opening 
to  the  left.  We  rowed  into  it,  and  at  its  mouth  were 
whirled  round  by  an  eddy.  Presently,  to  our  aston- 
ishment, the  current  took  us  through  the  lateral  open- 
ing, which  was  nearly  at  right  angles  with  the  course 
of  the  river,  and  had  nearly  the  same  width  and  ap- 
pearance with  the  river  itself.  We  continued  to  float 
on  through  this  deep  and  inundated  forest  six  or 
seven  miles,  wThen  at  right  angles  to  our  course  we 
discovered  another  opening.  It  was  the  Arkansas, 
moving  on  with  a  majestic  current  of  waters  of  the 
colour  of  Arnotto  die. 

This  is,  next  to  the  Missouri,  the  largest  and  most 
interesting  tributary  of  the  Mississippi,  and  from  its 
mouth  by  its  meanders  to  the  mountains,  is  commonly 
computed  about  two  thousand  miles.  Its  course  ^as 
been  traced  in  these  mountains  at  least  five  hundred 
miles,  and  it  is  believed  that  the  sources  of  the  Ar- 
kansas have  not  yet  been  explored  by  our  people. 
One  singularity  distinguishes  this  river  from  any 
other  of  the  United  States.  Where  it  winds  along 
among  the  mountains,  all  agree  that  it  is  a  broad  and 
deep  river,  and  carries  a  great  volume  of  water. 
But  no  sooner  does  it  emerge  from  the  shelter  of 
woods  and  mountains,  into  a  boundless  and  arid  plain, 
— composed  to  a  great  depth  of  quicksands, — than  it 
begins  to  disappear ;  and  in  a  hundred  miles  from 
the  very  elevated  mountain,  near  which  it  enters  up- 
on the  plain,  it  is  fordable  during  the  summer.  Still 


255 


lower  down  it  is  a  stream,  according  to  the  well- 
known  phrase  of  this  country,  "  sunk  in  the  sand  ; v 
that  is,  ir  trickles  amidst  the  banks  of  sand  and  peb- 
bles, so  as  in  many  places  to  exhibit  a  dry  channel  of 
burning  sand  from  bank  to  bank.  Here,  on  these 
vast  sandy  plains,  which  will  for  ages  be  the  Syrtes 
of  America,  the  home  of  elks  and  buffaloes,  are  the 
wide  fields  of  those  rich  native  grapes,  that  all  travel- 
lers in  these  regions  have  spoken  of  in  terms  of  such 
admiration.  They  are  said  to  be  conical  in  shape, 
large,  of  a  beautiful  blue,  and  transparent.  T^he 
driving  sands  rise  round  the  stem  that  advances  still 
above  the  sand.  This  sand  performs  the  best  office 
of  pruning,  covering  the  superfluous  growth  and  foli- 
age, inflicting  no  wounds,  and  affording  a  most  admi- 
rable method  of  ripening  the  clusters  in  the  highest 
perfection  by  the  reflection  of  the  sun  from  the  sand. 
In  the  Expedition  of  Major  Long,  the  extreme  sweet- 
ness of  these  grapes  is  recorded,  and  other  travellers 
have  borne  the  same  testimony.  They  speak  of  vast 
tracts  covered  with  these  rich  clusters.  I  shall  have 
occasion  elsewhere  to  speak  of  the  classes  of  this 
native  grape,  which  are  so  much  extolled  in  the  in- 
ternal provinces  of  Spain.  They  are  common  through 
the  pine-woods  of  Louisiana,  and  known  by  the  name 
of  the  pine-woods  grape. 

Another  peculiarity  of  the  Arkansas  is,  that  it  tra- 
verses the  immense  extent  of  country  through  which 
it  passes,  receiving  fewer  tributaries  than  any  other 
stream  that  has  so  long  a  course.  The  upper  regions 
of  this  river  are  remarkably  sterile,  containing  great 
tracts  of  moving  sands,  and  in  the  islands  of  verdure, 
a  rich,  short,  and  fine  grass,  very  different  from  the 
coarse  prairie-grass  of  the  prairies  of  Missouri,  and 


i5B 


of  the  country  of  the  Arkansas  lower  down.  This 
grass  seems  to  be  peculiarly  adapted  to  be  the  food  of 
ruminating  and  grazing  animals;  and  there  are  vast 
droves  of  buffaloes  and  other  wild  animals,  and  in  the 
regions  a  little  more  south,  and  in  the  Spanish  coun- 
try, countless  numbers  of  wild  horses.  Providence 
seems  to  have  provided  that  man  can  hardly  subsist 
among  them,  and  that  these  shall  continue  to  be  their 
retreats  for  ages.  The  river  itself  is  generally  skirted 
with  a  timbered  bottom,  which  widens,  as  the  river 
descends.  Over  the  whole  of  these  vast  plains  salt 
seems  to  be  distributed,  even  on  the  surface.  In  fact, 
one  of  the  peculiar  features  of  the  w  hole  country  west 
of  the  Mississippi,  is  these  licks, — places  where  the 
wild  and  domestic  cattle  have  beaten  firm  roads  in  all 
directions  round  them  ;  and  by  continually  licking  for 
the  salt,  intermixed  with  the  clay,  which  they  swallow 
with  the  salt,  there  are  often  wide  cavities,  sometimes 
to  a  considerable  depth,  occasioned  by  the  consump- 
tion by.  this  continual  licking.  There  are  said  to  be, 
and  there  are,  doubtless,  on  the  waters  of  the  Arkan- 
sas, wide  plains,  where  this  saline  matter,  dissolved 
by  moisture,  rains,  or  dews,  sublimes  and  rises  on  the 
surface  in  appearance  like  hoar  frost,  or  mountain 
snow.  There  seems  to  be  a  kind  provision  in  this 
order  of  things,  for  the  support  of  the  numberless  ani- 
mals that  feed  upon  these  plains. 

This  river  seems  to  mark  the  distinct  outline  of  an- 
other climate.  About  the  latitude  of  thirty-three,  and 
from  that  to  thirty-four  degrees,  seems  to  be  the  out- 
line of  the  region  of  the  profitable  raising  and  growing 
of  cotton.  It  is  equally  marked  by  new  classes  of 
vegetables,  and  different  species  of  sensitive  plants  ; 
the  running  vine,  which  bears  a  beautiful  species  of 


257 

passion-flower  ;  and  among  the  robuster  vegetable 
tribes,  the  Muscadine  grape ;  and  among  trees  the 
singular  and  beautiful  tree  called  yellow-wood,  or 
"  bois  d?arc.n  But  for  an  accurate  view  of  the  tribes 
of  plants  and  trees  that  are  peculiar  to  this  interesting 
river,  it  will  be  necessary  to  consult  Nuttall,  who 
treats  the  subject  with  the  precision  of  a  natural  histo- 
rian. 

The  soil  of  the  alluvions  of  this  river  is  much  like 
that  of  the  valley  of  Red  River,  which  has  become  so 
extensively  known  as  the  finest  cotton  country.  This 
river,  when  it  is  high,  is  very  turbid,  and  carries  along 
a  great  quantity  of  extremely  fine  sand  and  loam  of 
a  reddish  colour,  a  little  fainter  than  Spanish  brown. 
The  valley  of  this  river  is  all  composed  of  a  soil  of 
this  colour,  and  it  is  well  known  that  such  is  the  col- 
our of  the  soil  of  the  valley  through  which  Red  River 
runs. 

This  river,  too,  is  the  first,  in  advancing  south,  that 
is  never  frozen  quite  over,  though  ice  is  often  formed  on 
its  shores.  The  winters  are,  indeed,  very  cold,  as 
measured  by  the  sensations.  But  it  is  well  known  that 
in  a  moist  and  relaxing  climate,  where  the  summer 
heats  are  high,  and  long  continued,  the  sensations 
indicate  a  very  different  temperature  from  the  ther- 
mometer. They  require,  during  a  considerable  part 
of  the  winter,  much  the  same  amount  of  fuel,  and 
thickness  of  clothing  here,  as  at  the  North.  And  the 
northern  man  finds  himself  astonished,  as  late  in  au- 
tumn he  looks  round,  and  sees  every  thing  in  the  gar- 
dens and  in  the  woods  untouched  by  frost,  and  in  all 
the  freshness  of  summer  verdure,  while  his  feelings 
indicate  a  very  uncomfortable  degree  of  cold.  But 
the  vegetable  creation  clearly  designates  this  to  be  a 
33 


258 

different  climate  from  the  contiguous  state  of  Missouri. 
Snow  seldom  falls,  and  when  it  does  fall,  it  is  little 
more  than  a  hoar-frost,  which  the  first  clear  shining 
of  the  sun  dissolves,  be  the  temperature  of  the  air  what 
it  may.  In  February,  frequently,  and  generally  in 
March,  the  flowering  trees  and  shrubs  are  in  blossom. 
The  grasses,  the  garden  herbs,  are  all  in  full  vigour 
and  verdure,  and  the  amount  of  snow,  ice,  and  frost, 
comparatively  so  small,  that  here  you  feel  yourself 
leaving  the  empire  of  winter. 

An  appearance,  more  or  less  common  to  all  the 
western  and  southern  rivers,  struck  me  as  being  more 
distinctly  marked  in  this  river,  than  in  any  that  I 
have  seen.    It  is  the  entire  uniformity  of  the  mean- 
ders of  the  rivers,  called,  in  the  phrase  of  the  coun- 
try, u  points  and  bends."    On  this  river  tbey  are  de- 
scribed almost  with  the  precision,  with  which  they 
would  have  been  marked  off  by  tho,  sweep  of  the 
compass.    The  river  sweeps  round  a  regular  curve 
nearly  the  half  of  a  circle,  and  is  precipitated  from  the 
point  in  a  current  across  its  own  channel,  to  a  curve  of 
the  same  regularity  upon  the  opposite  side.    In  the 
bend,  the  main  force,  or  what  is  called  the  thread  of  the 
current,  is  within  a  few  feet  of  the  shore.  Between 
this  thread  and  the  shore  there  are  generally  counter 
currents,  or  eddies;  and  in  the  crumbling  and  ten- 
der alluvial  soil,  the  river  is  generally  making  in- 
roads upon  its  banks  on  the  bend  side.    Opposite  the 
bend  there  is  always  a  sand-bar ;  its  convexity  al- 
ways matched  to  the  concavity  of  the  bend,  and  it  is 
on  these  bars  that  those  striking  cotton-wood  groves 
arise,  so  regular,  and  rising  so  gradually,  according 
to  their  order  of  formation,  always  producing  the  im- 
pression of  a  pleasure-ground,  made  of  trees  disposed 


259 

m  * 
according  to  their  age,  and  rising  from  the  sapling  of 
the  present  year  to  the  huge  trees  of  the  bottom.  So 
regular  are  these  curves  in  all  the  rivers  of  the  lower 
country,  that  the  hunters  and  the  Indians  calculate 
distances  by  them.  As,  for  instance,  when  our  boat 
hailed  boats  coming  down  the  river,  the  question  was, 
How  far  have  you  come  to  day  ?  and  the  answer, 
so  many  points ;  and  in  turn  we  were  told,  that  we 
could  make  such  a  point  before  night.  I  observed 
this  conformation  on  White  River,  and  on  the  St. 
Francis.  It  is  remarkably  regular  for  a  great  dis- 
tance on  the  Arkansas,  and  equally  so,  but  with  much 
smaller  circles,  on  Red  River ;  making  the  turns  very 
frequently,  and  the  angles  sharp,  so  that  the  view  of 
the  river,  half  a  mile  ahead,  is  often  completely 
closed. 

There  are,  I  think,  on  the  Mississippi,  three  reach- 
es between  the  mouth  of  the  Ohio  and  the  Guif  of 
Mexico.  These  reaches, — as  they  are  called  by  the 
boatmen, — are  places  where  the  river  is  nearly 
straight,  and  deviates  from  its  accustomed  sinuosities. 
They  are  equally  distinguished  on  the  lower  course  of 
the  Ohio.  Even  in  the  upper  Mississippi,  where  the 
river  washes  the  base  of  high  perpendicular  bluffs  of 
stone,  you  see  the  same  tendency,  as  a  general  law,  with 
a  great  number  of  deviations  when  its  course  is  among 
bluffs  and  hills.  Even  the  Missouri,  sweeping  and 
terrible  as  it  is,  throwing  down  masses  of  forest  on 
one  hand,  and  depositing  them  on  the  other,  shews  its 
inclination  for  points  and  bends.  In  fact,  the  most 
majestic  bend,  which  is  a  third  part  of  a  circle,  in- 
cluding forty  miles  in  its  curve,  is  bounded  in  the 
greater  part  of  this  curve  by  a  very  high  perpendic- 
ular stone  bluff. 


260 


I  have  heard  various  demonstrations  given,  the  re- 
sult of  which  was  to  show,  that  a  moving  mass  of 
water,  on  the  principles  of  such  a  kind  of  moving 
force,  will  sweep  a  curve  in  one  direction,  be  project- 
ed from  the  point  of  the  curve,  and  then  sweep  one 
in  the  other.  But  they  were  unsatisfactory  demon- 
strations to  me,  and  it  has  always  seemed  to  me,  that 
in  a  tender  and  alluvial  soil,  and  under  the  same  cir- 
cumstances, a  moving  mass  of  water  ought  to  take  the 
direction  of  a  right  line.  Nor  does  it  afford  a  solu- 
tion in  my  view  to  say,  that  the  river  finds  an  obstacle 
which  gives  it  a  diagonal  direction,  and  that,  when 
this  course  is  once  established  by  uniform  laws,  it 
continues  this  alternation  of  curves.  The  course  of 
all  the  western  rivers,  in  making  points  and  bends, 
is  far  too  uniform  to  be  produced  by  an  accidental 
cause.  It  appears  clearly  to  me  that  the  deviations 
from  this  rule  are  accidental,  and  that  the  law  which 
creates  this  arrangement  is  uniform.  I  know  not  but  it 
may  be  the  same  with  the  Atlantic  rivers,  but  I  never 
saw  it  so  conspicuous  as  to  remark  it.  Here 
it  is  one  of  the  first  phenomena  that  impresses  the 
traveller. 

At  the  distance  of  fifteen  miles  below  the  Post 
of  Arkansas,  settlements  begin  to  be  thinly  estab- 
lished along  the  river ;  and  from  this  distance  to  the 
mouth,  about  forty  miles,  the  bottoms  of  the  river  are 
too  much  and  too  long  inundated  to  be  susceptible  of 
cultivation.  In  fact,  up  to  the  first  bluffs,  by  the 
course  of  the  river,  is  a  hundred  miles.  This  singular 
river  has  a  very  narrow  skirt  of  soil,  sometimes  but  a 
few  rods  in  width,  and  then  extending  half  a  mile 
back,  which  is  elevated  so  as  to  be  above  the  ordinary 
inundations.    At  the  distance  of  a  mile  or  two  from 


261 


the  river,  there  are  first  thick  cane  brakes,  then  a  se- 
ries of  lakes,  exactly  resembling  the  river  in  their 
points  and  bends,  and  in  the  colour  of  their  waters. 
When  the  river  is  high,  it  pours  its  redundant  waters 
into  these  lakes  and  Bayous,  and  the  water  is  in  mo- 
tion for  a  width  of  twenty  miles.     These  lakes  are 
covered  with  the  large  leaves,  and  in  the  proper  sea- 
son the  flowers  of  the  "  nymphea  nelumbo,"  the  largest 
and  most  splendid  flower  that  I  have  ever  seen.  I 
have  seen  them  of  the  size  of  the  crown  of  a  hat ;  the 
external  leaves  of  the  most  brilliant  white,  and  the 
internal  of  a  beautiful  yellow.    They  are  the  enlarged 
copy  of  the  New  England  pond'  lily,  which  has  al- 
ways struck  me  as  the  most  beautiful  and  fragrant 
flower  of  that  country.    These  lakes  are  so  entirely 
covered  with  these  large  conical  leaves,  nearly  of  the 
size  of  a. parasol,  and  a  smaller  class  of  aquatic  plant, 
of  the  same  form  of  leaves,  but  with  a  yellow  flow- 
er, that  a  bird  might  walk  from  shore  to  shore  without 
dipping  its  feet  in  water ;  and  these  plants  rise  from 
all  depths  of  water  up  to  ten  feet. 

Beyond  these  lakes,  there  are  immense  swamps  of 
cypress,  which  swamps  constitute  a  vast  proportion  of 
the  inundated  lands  of  the  Mississippi  and  its  wa- 
ters. No  prospect  on  earth  can  be  more  gloomy. 
The  poetic  Styx  or  Acheron  had  not  a  greater  union 
of  dismal  circumstances.  Well  may  the  cypress  have 
been  esteemed  a  funereal  and  lugubrious  tree.  When 
the  tree  has  shed  its  leaves,  for  it  is  a  deciduous  tree, 
a  cypress  swamp,  with  its  countless  interlaced  branch- 
es, of  a  hoary  grey,  has  an  aspect  of  desolation  and 
death,  that  often  as  I  have  been  impressed  with  it,  I 
cannot  describe.  In  summer  its  fine,  short,  and  deep 
green  leaves  invest  these  hoary  branches  with  a  dra- 


262 


pery  of  crape.  The  water  in  which  they  grow  is  a 
vast  and  dead  level,  two  or  three  feet  deep,  still  leaving 
the  innumerable  cypress  tft  knees,"  as  they  are  called, 
or  very  elliptical  trunks,  resembling  circular  bee-hives, 
throwing  their  points  above  the  waters.  This  water 
is  covered  with  a  thick  coat  of  green  matter,  resem- 
bling green  burl  velvet.  The  musquitoes  swarm 
above  the  water  in  countless  millions.  A  very 
frequent  adjunct  to  this  horrible  scenery  is  the  moc- 
cason  snake  with  his  huge  scaly  body  lying  in  folds 
upon  the  side  of  a  cypress  knee  ;  and  if  you  approach 
too  near,  lazy  and  reckless  as  he  is,  he  throws  the 
upper  jaw  of  his  huge  mouth  almost  back  to  his  neck, 
giving  you  ample  warning  of  his  ability  and  will  to 
defend  himself.  I  travelled  forty  miles  along  this  riv- 
er swamp,  and  a  considerable  part  of  the  way  in  the 
edge  of  it ;  in  which  the  horse  sunk  at  every  step  half 
up  to  his  knees.  I  was  enveloped  for  the  whole  distance 
with  a  cloud  of  musquitoes.  Like  the  ancient  Aver- 
nus,  I  do  not  remember  to  have  seen  a  single  bird  in 
the  whole  distance  except  the  blue  jay.  Nothing 
interupted  the  death-like  silence,  but  the  hum  of  mus- 
quitoes. 

There  cannot  be  well  imagined  another  feature  to 
the  gloom  of  these  vast  and  dismal  forests,  to  finish 
this  kind  of  landscape,  more  in  keeping  with  the  rest, 
than  the  long  moss,  or  Spanish  beard,  and  this  fune- 
real drapery  attaches  itself  to  the  cypress  in  preference 
to  any  other  tree.  There  is  not,  that  I  know,  an  object 
in  nature,  which  produces  such  a  number  of  sepul- 
chral images  as  the  view  of  the  cypress  forests,  all 
shagged,  dark,  and  enveloped  in  the  hanging  festoons 
of  moss.  If  you  would  inspire  an  inhabitant  of 
New  England,  possessed  of  the  customary  portion  of 


263 


feeling,   with  the  degree  of   home-sickness  which  . 
would  strike  to  the  heart,  transfer  him  instantly  from 
the  hill  and  dale,  the  bracing  air  and  varied  scenery 
of  the  North,  to  the  cypress  swamps  of  the  South, 
that  are  covered  with  the  long  moss. 

This  curious  appendage  to  the  trees  is  first  visible  in 
the  cypress  swamps  at  about  thirty-three  degrees,  and 
is  seen  thence  to  the  Gulf.     It  is  the  constant  ac- 
companiment of  the  trees  in  deep  bottoms  and  swam- 
py lands,  and  seems  to  be  an  indication  of  the  degree  of 
humidity  in  the  atmosphere.    I  have  observed  that  in 
dry  and  hilly  pine  woods,  far  from  streams  and  stag- 
nant waters,  it  almost  wholly  disappears ;  but  in  the 
pine  woods  it  reappears  as  you  approach  bottoms, 
streams,  and  swamps.     I  have  remarked  too,  that 
where  it  so  completely  envelopes  the  cypress,  as  to  show 
nothing  but  the  festoons  of  the   dark  grey  moss, 
other  trees  are  wholly  free  from  it.    It  seems  less  in- 
clined to  attach  itself  to  the  cotton  wood  trees,  than 
to  any  other. 

This  moss,  called,  by  what  authority  I  know  not, 
tillondsia  usneaides,  is  a  plant  of  the  parasitical  spe- 
cies, being  propagated  by  seed,  which  forms  in  a  cap- 
sule that  is  preceded  by  a  very  minute,  but  beau- 
tiful purple  flower.  Although  when  the  trees  that 
have  cast  their  leaves  are  covered  with  it,  they  look 
as  if  they  were  dead,  yet  the  moss  will  not  live  long 
on  a  dead  tree.  It  is  well  known  that  this  moss, 
when  managed  by  a  process  like  that  of  preparing 
hemp,  or  flax,  separates  from  its  bark,  and  the  black 
fibre  that  remains  is  not  unlike  horse-hair,  elastic, 
incorruptible,  and  an  admirable  and  cheap  article  for 
mattresses,  of  which  are  formed  most  of  the  beds  of 
the  southern  people  of  this  region. 


264 


For  some  distance  below  the  Post,  the  strip  of  land 
on  each  side  of  the  river  that  is  above  the  inundation, 
is  of  considerable  width,  affording  a  depth  sufficient 
for  a  number  of  cotton  plantations  that  are  contiguous 
to  on.e  another,  and  from  the  resemblance  of  this 
part  of  the  shores  of  the  river  to  the  lands  on  the  low- 
er part  of  the  Mississippi,  it  is  called  the  coast. 

The  Post  of  Arkansas  is  situated  on  a  level  tract 
of  land,  which  has  a  slight  elevation  above  the  ad- 
jacent bottom.  It  lies  between  two  Bayous,  that  are 
gullied  very  deep,  on  the  bend  of  the  river.  The  soil 
about  the  town  is  poor  and  heavy,  and  covered  with 
shrub  oaks  and  persimon  trees.  So  perfectly  level 
is  the  country,  that  there  is  not  a  hill  or  a  stone  in 
forty  miles  distance.  The  highest  point  of  land  in 
all  this  extent  is  scarcely  ten  feet  above  the  highest 
inundations  of  the  river.  The  court-house  is  situated 
within  three  hundred  yards  of  the  river  in  front, 
and  about  the  same  distance  in  the  rear  from  a 
swamp>  into  which,  in  high  water,  White  River  flows, 
which  is  distant  thirty  miles.  In  all  directions  the 
country  is  a  dead  level,  and  there  are  innumerable 
communications  between  the  rivers,  in  high  water,  by 
one  of  which,  a  little  below  the  Post,  a  canoe  has  gone 
out  of  the  Arkansas  into  the  Washita,  and  from  that 
again  into  Red  River,  and  from  that  into  the  Bayou 
Chaffatio,  and  from  that  into  the  Gulf  of  Mexico,  a 
communication  eight  hundred  miles  in  extent. 

A  short  distance  west  of  the  town  commences  a 
prairie  of  various  breadth,  but  its  medial  width  I 
would  suppose  five  miles.  It  stretches  west  a  hun- 
dred miles,  preserving  much  the  same  distance  from 
the  river  the  whole  way,  and  what  is  surprising  is,  that 
in  its  regular  curves  of  points  and  bends  it  corres- 


265 


ponds  very  accurately  to  the  same  changes  in  the  riv- 
er. There  are  scattered  over  this  vast  prairie,  as 
over  all  the  other  alluvial  prairies,  islands  and  clusters 
of  trees,  which  have  a  singular  effect  in  the  landscape. 
This  prairie  is  of  a  soil  very  inferior  to  those  in  the 
upper  country.  Instead  of  the  black  and  friable  soil 
there,  it  is  generally  a  heavy  grey  clay,  and  indented 
on  the  surface,  with  innumerable  little  cones  of  earth 
raised  by  the  crawfish,  a  circumstance  which  is  well 
known  to  indicate  a  cold  and  wet  soil.  The  lands,  that 
will  yield  crops  without  manure,  lie  at  the  points  of 
the  bends  of  the  prairies,  where  the  soil  is  uniformly 
much  richer  than  the  average  quality  of  the  prairie. 
But  as  these  prairies  are  always  skirted  on  their  edges 
with  young  cane,  affording  winter  range,  as  the  sum- 
mer range  for  cattle  is  inexhaustible ;  as  these  open 
plains  are  more  swept  by  the  winds,  andfare  more  free 
from  musquitoes,  and  healthier  than  the  bottoms  ;  all 
the  planters,  who  prefer  raising  cattle  to  cotton,  are 
settled  on  the  edges  of  the  prairies. 

When  I  first  arrived  at  the  Post,  the  population  of 
the  territory, — for  it  had  been  recently  separated 
from  Missouri,  as  a  territory, — amounted,  probably, 
to  about  ten  thousand.  These  were  in  long  and  de- 
tached lines,  the  one  along  the  Mississippi,  called  the 
St.  Francis  settlement ;  the  other  on  the  Mississippi 
below  the  mouth  of  the  river,  called  point  Ohico  set- 
tlement, the  settlement  on  the  waters  of  White  River, 
a  settlement  far  up  the  Arkansas,  called  Mulberry  set- 
tlement, and  the  settlements  on  the  table  land  between 
the  Arkansas  and  Red  Rivers,  called  Mount  Prairie. 

I  did  not  travel  as  extensively  here  as  in  Missou- 
ri :  but  I  travelled  enough  to  see  an  ample  speci- 
men of  the  people  and  the  country.    The  valley  of  the 
34 


266 


Arkansas,  with  very  little  exception,  is  sickly.  Re- 
mittents and  intermittents  are  so  common,  that  when 
a  person  has  no  more  than  simple  fever  and  ague,  he 
is  hardly  allowed  to  claim  the  immunities  of  sickness, 
and  it  is  remarked  that  he  has  only  the  ague.  The 
autumn  that  I  was  there,  it  appeared  to  me  that  more 
than  half  the  inhabitants,  not  excepting  the  Creoles, 
had  the  ague. 

South  of  the  thirty- fourth  degree  the  lands  are  fine 
for  cotton.  I  have  no  where  remarked  finer  fields  of 
cotton,  than  at  the  settlement  of  Bairdstown,  about 
forty  miles  above  the  Post,  on  the  river.  The  season 
cannot  be  quite  so  long  as  it  is  on  Red  River,  but  the 
cotton  seemed  not  inferior  in  luxuriance  of  growth. 
They  affirmed,  too,  that  the  staple  was  equally  good. 
The  uplands  of  the  country  are,  with  few  exceptions, 
miserable;  being  either  flint  knobs,  bare  hills,  or 
shrubby  plains.  Mount  Prairie  is  a  most  interesting 
exception.  This  is  a  circular  eminence  of  table  land, 
perhaps  sixteen  miles  in  diameter,  rising  considerably 
above  the  adjacent  country.  The  soil  is  of  a  tex- 
ture of  marl  and  clay,  as  black  as  ink,  rather  inclined 
to  bake  and  open  in  fissures,  but  very  rich.  Through 
this  extraordinary  stratum  of  earth,  apparently  the 
deposit  of  a  lake  or  swamp,  they  dig  nearly  an  hun- 
dred feet  in  order  to  find  water  in  their  wells.  What 
is  still  more  extraordinary,  on  this  curious  mound, 
nearly  equidistant  between  Red  and  Arkansas  Rivers, 
and  at  five  hundred  miles  distance  from  the  Gulf  of 
Mexico,  are  found  large  marine  shells,  bleached  to  the 
purest  white,  and  in  the  greatest  abundance.  And 
these  shells  are  found  equally  intermixed  with  the  soil 
to  the  bottom  of  the  wells.  Being  in  a  state  of  decay, 
they  yield  a  very  unpleasant  taste,  and  it  is  supposed 


267 


rather  unhealthy  properties  to  the  waters.  It  is  an 
extremely  rich  and  productive  soil. 

As  soon  as  you  reach  the  high  lands  north  of  the 
Arkansas,  the  hilly  regions,  watered  by  White  River 
and  its  numerous  branches,  the  country  is  broken  into 
barren  knobs,  is  generally  precipitous  and  poor,  but, 
as  if  in  return,  is  delightfully  watered,  and  has  hun- 
dreds of  pure  spring  branches  winding  among  the 
hills,  which,  upon  the  falling  of  a  shower,  rise  and 
overflow  their  banks,  and  inundate  their  cane  bot- 
toms. They  would  be  beautiful  situations  for  mills, 
were  they  not  exposed  to  sudden  inundation  ;  as  it 
is,  this  is  the  natural  position  for  the  manufacturing 
establishments  of  the  country.  It  is  rather  too  much 
exposed  to  frosts  to  be  favourable  to  the  culture  of 
cotton,  But  it  is  fine  for  corn  and  sweet  potatoes. 
Where  it  has  been  tried,  it  is  affirmed  that  even 
wheat  succeeds  well,  and  it  is  unquestionable  that 
rye  yields  a  fine  crop  in  southern  regions,  where 
wheat  entirely  fails.  On  the  numberless  exposed 
slopes,  that  occur  in  this  land  of  hills  and  springs, 
must  certainly  be  the  home  of  the  cultivated  grape. 
At  present,  strange  as  it  may  seem,  in  this  high  coun- 
try, where  springs  occur  almost  every  mile,  where 
there  are  no  swamps,  and  where  the  air,  in  ascending 
from  the  boundless,  marshy  swamps  of  the  Arkansas, 
has  a  balsamic  influence  upon  the  organs,  it  is  said, 
that  fevers  are  to  the  full  as  fatal  as  in  the  bottoms; 
and  they,  who  ascend  in  the  season  of  fever  from 
those  low  plains,  have  the  course  of  their  disorder 
precipitated.  It  breaks  out  at  once,  and  proves  still 
more  unmanageable  than  it  would  have  been  in  the 
region  where  the  seeds  of  it  originated. 


268 

The  plains  far  up  the  Arkansas,  and  at  a  sufficient 
distance  from  the  influence  of  its  waters,  are  very  dry, 
have  an  atmosphere  of  great  purity,  and  must  be 
healthy.  They  are  the  resorts  of  the  Osage  and 
Cherokee  Indians.  Still  farther  up,  the  Pawnees  of 
the  northern  waters  of  the  Arkansas  meet  those  of 
the  southern  waters  of  the  Missouri ;  and  they  are 
sometimes  joined  by  the  wandering  tribes  of  the  inte- 
rior provinces  of  Spain.  Here  their  principal  object 
is  to  hunt  the  bufTaloe,  which  is  here  found  in  greater 
numbers  than  in  any  other  region.  These  immense 
naked  plains,  reaching  from  the  Gulf  of  Mexico  in 
the  internal  provinces  to  the  Chepywan  mountains 
west,  and  beyond  the  Missouri  north,  are  almost  uni- 
versally untimbered.  They  are  sufficient  in  extent  for 
large  empires,  are  the  wide  range  of  buffaloes,  elks, 
and  bears,  and  will  in  ages  to  come  be  the  resorts  of 
shepherds. 

On  a  stream  denominated  the  Six  Bull,  which  comes 
in  from  the  north  side  of  the  Arkansas,  is  situated  the 
mission  family ;  of  the  situation  and  prospects  of 
which,  the  public  is  sufficiently  informed.  Not  very 
far  from  this  station, — which  is  in  a  measure  connect- 
ed by  the  Six  Bull  and  the  Osage  with  an  establish- 
ment of  the  same  kind  on  the  Missouri, — is  the  milita- 
ry station  on  the  Main  River,  and  about  six  hundred 
miles  from  its  mouth. 

In  the  vicinity  of  that  station  is  the  settlement  called 
Mulberry.  It  is  understood  that  the  boatable  waters 
of  the  Osage  approach  w  ithin  an  hour's  walk  of  those 
of  the  Six  Bull ;  and  thus  the  rivers  Missouri  and  Ar- 
kansas might  easily  be  interlocked.  Indeed,  the  facil- 
ity with  which  all  the  western  rivers,  that  are  not  in 
this  way  actually  connected,  might  be  united,  is  a  cir- 


269 


cumstance  of  astonishment  to  a  person,  acquainted 
only  with  the  Atlantic  rivers. 

I  was  at  Arkansas  at  the  setting  up  of  the  territorial 
government ;  and  it  exhibited  a  scene  sufficiently  pain- 
ful and  disgusting.  Our  government  cannot  be  sup- 
posed to  be  omnipresent  or  omniscient.  Yet  if  all 
favouritism  were  avoided  in  the  appointment  of  offi- 
cers in  these  distant  regions ;  if  they  took  pains  to 
learn  how  these  organs  of  their  will  performed  their 
functions,  things  would  be  different.  But  as  it  is,  the 
recommendations  are  made  by  members  of  congress, 
who  have  cousins  perhaps  qualified,  but  who  perhaps 
have  been  a  burden  on  their  hands,  and  they  are  happy 
to  get  rid  of  them  by  sending  them  to  these  remote  re- 
gions to  fill  the  new  offices,  created  by  the  erection  of 
a  territorial  government.  The  persons  who  procured 
the  appointment  have  an  interest  in  withholding  un- 
favourable views,  and  the  parties  are  not  disposed  to 
betray  themselves ;  and  these  men,  dressed  out  in  a 
66  little  brief  authority,"  perform  deeds  to  make  u  the 
high  heavens  wTeep." 

They  were  re-enacting  in  that  distant  and  turbulent 
region,  what  they  would  call  "  the  blue  laws  5?  of  old 
Virginia,  relating  to  gambling,  breach  of  the  Sabbath, 
and  the  like  ;  and  having  promulgated  these  laws,  on 
the  succeeding  Sabbath, — hi  the  face  of  their  recent  or- 
dinances, and  of  a  population  who  needed  the  enforce- 
ment of  them, — the  legislators  and  judges  would  fall  to 
their  usual  vocation  of  gambling  through  the  day. 

The  people  of  this  region  are  certainly  more  rough 
and  untamed  than  those  of  the  state  of  Missouri,  or 
of  the  more  northern  and  western  regions.  But  yet, 
even  the  inhabitants  here  were  far  from  deserving  the 
character  that  has  generally  been  given  to  the  best  of 


270 


the  population  of  these  countries.  The  redeeming  in- 
fluence of  American  feelings,  laws,  and  institutions,  was 
sufficiently  infused  into  the  new  government  to  carry  it 
into  quiet  effect  throughout  the  country.  Courts  were 
established,  aud  whatever  were  the  character  and  ex- 
ample of  the  judges,  the  decisions  of  those  courts  were 
respected.  There  were,  indeed,  some  murders  com- 
mitted in  the  remote  extremities  of  this  country.  In 
one  instance  the  murderer  was  brought  to  the  Post, 
and  discharged  because  it  was  an  interregnum  be- 
tween the  dissolution  of  the  Missouri  authority  and 
the  setting  up  of  the  new  one.  Two  persons,  who 
were  supposed  to  have  murdered  their  partner  on  the 
saline  far  up  the  Arkansas,  under  circumstances  of 
atrocious  barbarity,  were  brought  to  the  Post  while  I 
was  there.  Never  were  seen  more  diabolical  counte- 
nances. I  spoke  seriously  to  them,  but  they  held  all 
council,  reproof,  and  fear,  in  utter  derision.  They 
were  imprisoned,  and  would  undoubtedly  have  been 
executed,  but  they  contrived  in  a  few  days  to  escape. 

Many  amusing  traits  of  the  government  of  the 
Spanish  regime  were  related.  They  exhibited  a  very 
great  analogy  to  their  modes  of  managing  elsewhere. 
The  government  consisted,  as  usual,  of  the  priest,  a 
few  soldiers,  and  the  commandant ;  and  the  Ameri- 
cans who  came  under  their  jurisdiction  were  consider- 
ed as  a  dangerous  species  of  animal,  with  whom  the 
commandant  entangled  himself  as  little  as  possible. 
I  saw  a  noble  looking  Quawpaw  chief,  rather  advanc- 
ed in  age,  who  was  universally  reported  to  have  per- 
formed a  noble  action  for  the  last  Spanish  command- 
ant. It  seems  that  a  party  of  the  Muskogee  Indians, 
— as  the  Creek  sare  called  by  the  other  tribes,  and  by 
themselves, — had  penetrated  to  the  Post,  found  the 


271 


only  child  of  the  commandant, — but  just  advanced 
beyond  the  age  of  infancy, — so  unguarded  or  so  far 
from  the  house,  that  they  seized  on  him  and  carried 
him  off.  The  commandant,  upon  learning  the  fact, 
was,  as  may  naturally  be  supposed,  in  an  agony.  The 
Quawpaw  in  question  proposed,  for  some  trifling  com- 
pensation, to  follow  the  party  down  the  Arkansas,  and 
recover  the  child  ;  and  he  fulfilled  his  promise  in  this 
way  : — he  descended  behind  them  to  the  grand  "  cut- 
off," the  Bayou  that  unites  White  River  and  the  Ar- 
kansas ;  and  at  the  point  of  the  vast  island  made  by 
this  Bayou,  the  Arkansas,  and  the  Mississippi,  he 
found  the  savages  encamped,  holding  high  jubilee  over 
the  roasted  carcase  of  a  bear.  It  is  the  custom  of  the 
savages  of  these  regions  to  send  forward  some  noted 
warrior,  like  the  herald  of  the  Romans,  who,  at  the 
commencement  of  the  first  battle,  threw  a  javelin  into 
the  enemy's  camp,  and  devoted  them  to  the  infernal 
gods.  This  warrior,  as  the  "  avant  courier  "  of  his 
tribe,  rushes  upon  the  enemy,  singing  the  war-song, 
and  shouting  defiance.  So  did  this  intrepid  Indian, — 
and  the  Muskogees,  supposing  the  united  Spanish  and 
Quawpaws  to  be  behind,  sprung  to  their  canoes,  leav- 
ing their  utensils,  their  unfinished  feast,  their  whiskey, 
and  the  child,  behind,  and  the  crafty  savage  immedi- 
ately seized  the  child,  and  began  his  return  up  the 
river.  The  same  savage  performed  an  office,  scarcely 
less  dangerous,  for  me,  in  recovering  a  valuable  yawl 
from  the  ferocious  Choctaws,  who  had  stolen  it  and 
carried  it  far  up  the  river. 

The  remaining  period  which  I  spent  in  this  country 
was,  from  a  hundred  circumstances,  a  time  of  gloom 
and  dejection.  Every  member  of  my  family  was  vis- 
ited with  fever,  except  myself.    The  lives  of  two  were 


272 

in  jeopardy  for  a  number  of  days.  All  the  neighbours 
were  sick,  and  many  were  dying  about  me.  A  negro 
child  died  in  my  family.  Our  only  servant  was  sick, 
and  in  this  season  of  general  distress  no  other  could  be 
procured.  The  only  physician  in  whom  we  had  con- 
fidence, and  who  had  been  a  member  of  my  family,  was 
sick.  The  air  was  excessively  sultry,  and  the  mus- 
quitoes  troublesome  to  a  degree,  which  I  have  not  ex- 
perienced before  nor  since.  I  was  obliged  to  rise  from 
my  bed  at  least  ten  times  a  night,  for  forty  nights.  I 
slept  under  a  very  close  musquitoe  curtain.  I  would 
soon  become  oppressed  for  want  of  breath  under  the 
curtain,  and  when  I  drew  it  up  and  attempted  to  inhale 
a  little  of  the  damp  and  sultry  atmosphere,  the  musqui- 
toes  would  instantly  settle  on  my  face  in  such  num- 
bers that  I  was  soon  obliged  to  retreat  behind  my 
curtain  again.  Thus  passed  those  dreadful  nights, 
amidst  the  groans  of  my  family,  calls  for  medicine 
and  drink,  suffocation  behind  my  curtain,  or  the  agony 
of  musquitoe  stings,  as  soon  as  I  was  exposed  to  the 
air.  These  were  gloomy  days  indeed  ;  for  during  the 
day  the  ardours  of  the  sun  were  almost  intolerable. 
My  accustomed  walk,  to  change  the  scene  and  to  diver- 
sify the  general  gloom  a  little,  was  down  a  beach  to- 
wards the  upper  Bayou,,  under  the  shade  of  some  lofty 
cypress  trees  ;  and  even  here,  the  moment  I  was  out 
of  the  full  heat  of  the  sun,  the  musquitoes,  which,  dur- 
ing the  heats  of  the  day,  took  shelter  in  the  shade, 
would  rise  in  countless  swarms  from  the  grass  to  at- 
tack me. 

During  all  this  gloomy  summer,  we  could  not  take 
our  food  until  a  fire,  kindled  with  the  most  offensive 
materials,  and  under  the  table,  dispersed  its  suffocating 
fumes  to  drive  them  away.    Even  when  I  wrote  a 


273 

letter,  it  was  necessary  that  some  one  should  be  at 
hand  to  brush  off  the  musquitoes.  In  truth,  the  lower 
course  of  the  Arkansas  is  infested  with  these  torment- 
ing insects  in  a  degree  in  which  I  have  never  seen 
them  elsewhere.  7'he  inhabitants,  while  jesting  upon 
the  subject,  used  to  urge  this  incessant  torment  as  an 
excuse  for  deep  drinking.  A  sufficient  quantity  of 
wine  or  spirits  to  produce  a  happy  reverie,  or  a  dozing 
insensibility,  had  a  cant,  but  very  significant  name, — 
"  a  musquitoe  dose." 

There  is  an  unknown  depth  of  power  to  sustain 
suffering,  which  is  never  felt  in  its  extent,  until  it  is 
tried.  Jt  seems  to  me  in  retrospection,  that  such  a 
frail  nature  as  mine  could  not  have  endured  the 
watching,  the  anxiety,  the  debility,  the  heat,  musqui- 
toes, and  privations  of  that  summer.  But  this  I  did 
endure,  unfriended,  unaided,  and  with  days  elapsing 
without  seeing  an  individual,  except  the  sick  members 
of  my  family. 

I  had  preached  regularly  every  Sabbath,  in  the 
court-house,  up  to  the  time  when  my  family  was 
taken  sick.  My  congregation  was  principally  French, 
and  although  at  that  time  my  pronunciation  of  their 
language  was  defective,  I  attempted  in  the  best  man- 
ner in  my  power  to  address  them  in  their  own  lan- 
guage. They  are  always  in  such  circumstances  polite, 
and  seem  attentive.  But  in  regions  like  this,  where 
the  habits,  unchecked  by  any  serious  influence,  unaw- 
ed  by  any  example,  have  been  gathering  stability  for 
an  age,  a  few  sermons,  be  they  impressive  or  other- 
wise, cannot  be  expected  to  have  much  effect.  One 
thing  has  been  indelibly  impressed  in  my  mind  by 
deep  conviction  ; — that  religion  nowhere  has  much  in- 
fluence unless  its  rites  have  some  degree  of  uniformity, 
35 


274 


unless  the  associations  of  awe,  of  tenderness,  and  of 
piety,  are  established  by  frequent  and  long  repetition. 
Hence  it  is,  that  the  transient  labours  of  itinerants, 
manifested  in  earnestness  and  exclamation,  seem  to 
operate  on  a  region  over  which  it  passes  like  the 
flames  of  a  stubble  field.  There  is  much  appearance 
of  flame  and  smoke  ;  but  the  fire  passes  slightly  over 
the  surface,  and  in  a  few  days  the  observer  sees  not  a 
trace  of  the  conflagration  left.  I  did  not  flatter  my- 
self that  my  services  were  of  much  utility. 

The  French  people  generally  came  to  the  place  of 
worship,  arrayed  in  their  ball-dresses,  and  went  direct- 
ly from  worship  to  the  ball.  A  billiard  room  was 
near,  and  parts  of  my  audience  sometimes  came  in  tor 
a  moment,  and  after  listening  to  a  few  sentences,  re- 
turned to  their  billiards.  Nor  is  here  the  only  place, 
where  the  preacher  has  to  endure  the  heart- wearing 
agony  of  having  an  audience  interchanging  their  at- 
tention repeatedly  between  the  sermon  and  the  bil- 
liard-room, in  the  delivery  of  one  discourse. 

All  the  conversation  of  my  family,  during  their  con- 
valescence, was  of  returning  either  to  New  England, 
or  to  Missouri.  Either  country,  conten  plated  in  the 
strong  contrast  of  hope  and  of  memory,  seemed  to  us 
the  happiest  place  of  deliverance.  Circumstances 
that  the  reader  can  easily  imagine,  determined  us,  as 
soon  as  our  convalescence  would  allow  us,  to  go  on 
board  a  boat  to  return  to  the  upper  country,  which 
alone  appeared  to  us  capable  of  restoring  our  health, 
and  dispelling  our  gloom.  I  could  relate  many  inci- 
dents of  this  period,  but  they  all  partook  of  the  gloomy 
colouring  of  my  residence  in  that  region,  and  are 
therefore  omitted. 


275 


Before  I  left  the  country,  I  crossed  the  river  to  view 
the  wretched  remains  of  that  singular  class  of  enthusi- 
asts, known  in  this  country  by  the  name  of  the  44  Pil- 
grims." This  whole  region,  it  is  true,  wears  an  aspect 
of  irreligipn  ;  but  we  must  not  thence  infer,  that  we  do 
not  often  see  the  semblance  and  the  counterfeit  of 
religion.  There  is  no  country  where  bigotry  and  en- 
thusiasm are  seen  in  forms  of  more  glaring  absurdity, 
and,  at  the  same  time,  of  more  arrogant  assumption. 
There  were,  I  think,  six  persons  of  them  left,: — the 
"  prophet,"  so  called,  and  his  wife,  and  another  wo- 
man, and  perhaps  three  children.  They  were  sick  and 
poor  ;  and  the  rags  with  which  they  were  originally 
habited  to  excite  attention,  and  to  be  in  keeping  with 
their  name  and  assumption,  were  now  retained  from 
necessity.  The  "  prophet "  was  too  sick  to  impart 
much  information,  and  the  others  seemed  reluctant  to 
do  it.  I3ut  from  the  wife  of  the  prophet  I  gleaned 
the  information  which  follows,  of  their  origin,  pro- 
gress, and  end.  I  have  collated  her  information  with 
the  most  authentic  notices  of  them,  which  I  obtained 
at  every  stage  on  the  Mississippi  where  they  were 
seen,  and  where  they  stopped. 

It  seems  that  the  fermenting  principle  of  the  socie- 
ty began  to  operate  in  Lower  Canada.  A*  few  re- 
ligious people  began  to  talk  about  the  dead n ess  and 
the  unworthiness  of  all  churches,  as  bodies,  and  they 
were  anxious  to  separate  from  them,  in  order  to 
compound  a  more  perfect  society.  The  enthusiasm 
caught  in  other  minds  like  a  spark  fallen  in  iiax. 
A  number  immediately  sold  every  thing,  and  prepared 
to  commence  a  course  towards  the  southwest.  In 
their  progress  through  Vermont  they  came  in  contact 
with  other  minds  affected  with  the  same  longing  with 


276 


themselves.  There  can  be  no  doubt  that  most  of  them 
were  perfectly  honest  in  their  purpose.  The  "  pro- 
phet," a  compound,  like  the  character  of  Cromwell,  of 
hypocrite  and  enthusiast,  joined  himself  to  them,  and 
from  his  superior  talents  or  contributions  to  the  com- 
mon stock  of  the  society,  became  their  leader.  They 
went  on  accumulating  through  New  York,  where 
their  numbers  amounted  to  nearly  fifty.  Here  they  en- 
countered the  Shakers,  and  as  they  had  some  notions 
in  common,  a  kind  of  coalition  was  attempted  with 
them.  But  the  Shakers  are  industrious  and  neat  to  a 
proverb,  and  are  more  known  to  the  community  by 
these  traits,  than  any  other.  But  industry  made  little 
part  of  the  religion  of  the  Pilgrims,  and  neatness  still 
less ;  for  it  was  a  maxim  with  them  to  wear  the 
clothes  as  long  as  they  would  last  on  the  body,  with- 
out washing  or  changing  ;  and  the  more  patched  and 
particoloured  the  better.  If  they  wore  one  whole 
shoe,  the  other  one, — like  the  pretended  pilgrims  of 
old  time, — was  clouted  and  patched.  They  made  it  a 
point,  in  short,  to  be  as  ragged  and  dirty  as  might  be. 
Of  course,  after  a  long  debate  with  the  Shakers, — in 
which  they  insisted  upon  industry,  cleanliness,  and 
parting  from  their  wives,  proving  abundantly  and 
quoting  profusely  that  it  ought  to  be  so  ;  and  the  Pil- 
grims proving  by  more  numerous  and  apposite  quota- 
tions, that  they  ought  to  cleave  to  their  dirt,  rags, 
laziness,  and  wives,  and  that  they  ought  to  go  due 
southwest  to  find  the  New  Jerusalem, — the  logoma- 
chy terminated  as  most  religious  disputes  do ;  each 
party  claimed  the  victory,  and  lamented  the  obduracy, 
blindness,  and  certain  tendency  to  everlasting  destruc- 
tion of  the  other  ;  and  they  probably  parted  with  these 
expectations  of  each  other's  doom. 


277 


I  knew  nothing  of  their  course  from  that  place  to 
New  Madrid  below  the  mouth  of  the  Ohio.  They 
were  then  organised  to  a  considerable  degree,  and  had 
probably  eight  or  ten  thousand  dollars  in  common 
stock.  The  prophet  was  their  ruler,  spiritual  and 
temporal.  He  had  visions  by  night,  which  were  ex- 
pounded in  the  morning,  and  determined  whether  they 
should  stand  still  or  go  on  ;  whether  they  should  ad- 
vance by  land  or  water ;  in  short  every  thing  was  set- 
tled by  immediate  inspiration.  Arrived  at  New 
Madrid,  they  walked  ashore  in  Indian  file,  the  old 
men  in  front,  then  the  women,  and  the  children  in  the 
rear.  They  chanted  a  kind  of  tune,  as  they  walked, 
the  burden  of  which  was  u  Praise  God  !  Praise  God  ! n 

Their  food  was  mush  and  milk,  prepared  in  a  trough, 
and  they  sucked  it  up,  standing  erect,  through  a  perfo- 
rated stalk  of  cane.  They  enjoined  severe  penances, 
according  to  the  state  of  grace  in  which  the  penitent 
was.  For  the  lower  stages  the  penance  was  very  se- 
vere, as  to  stand  for  four  successive  days  without  re- 
clining or  sitting,  to  fast  one  or  two  days.  In  fact 
fasting  was  a  primary  object  of  penance,  both  as  severe 
in  itself,  and  as  economical.  They  affected  to  be  rag- 
ged, and  to  have  different  stripes  in  their  dresses  and 
caps,  like  those  adopted  in  penitentiaries  as  badges  of 
the  character  of  the  convicts.  So  formidable  a  band 
of  ragged  Pilgrims,  marching  in  perfect  order,  chant- 
ing with  a  peculiar  twang  the  short  phrase  i6  Praise 
God  !  Praise  God  !  99  had  in  it  something  imposing  to 
a  people,  like  those  of  the  West,  strongly  governed  by 
feelings  and  impressions.  Sensible  people  assured 
me  that  the  coming  of  a  band  of  these  Pilgrims  into 
their  houses  affected  them  with  a  thrill  of  alarm  which 
they  could  hardly  express.    The  untasted  food  before 


278 


them  lost  its  savour,  while  they  heard  these  strange 
people  call  upon  them,  standing  themselves  in  the  pos- 
ture of  statues,  and  uttering  only  the  words,  "  Praise 
God,  repent,  fast,  pray."  Small  children,  waggish 
and  profane  as  most  of  the  children  are,  were  seen  to 
shed  tears,  and  to  ask  their  parents,  if  it  would  not  be 
fasting  enough,  to  leave  off  one  meal  a  day.  Two  of 
their  most  distinguished  members  escaped  from  them 
at  New  Madrid,  not  without  great  difficulty,  and  hav- 
ing been  both  of  them  confined  to  prevent  their  escape. 
One  of  them,  an  amiable  and  accomplished  woman, 
whose  over-wrought  imagination  had  been  carried 
away  by  their  imposing  rites,  died  soon  after,  worn 
down  by  the  austerities  and  privations  which  she  had 
endured.  The  husband  had  an  emaciated  look,  like 
the  Shakers,  a  sweet  voice  for  sacred  music,  and  was 
preaching  in  union  with  the  Methodists.  At  Pilgrim 
Island,  thirty  miles  below,  and  opposite  the  Little 
Prairie,  they  staid  a  long  time. 

Here  dissensions  began  to  spring  up  among  them. 
Emaciated  with  hunger,  and  feverish  from  filth  antl  the 
climate,  many  of  them  left  their  bones.  They  were 
ordered  by  the  prophet,  from  some  direct  revelation 
which  he  received,  to  lie  unburied  ;  aud  their  bones 
were  bleaching  on  the  island  when  we  were  there. 
Some  escaped  from  them  at  this  place,  and  the  sheriff 
of  the  county  of  Newr  Madrid,  indignant  at  the  star- 
vation imposed  as  a  discipline  upon  the  little  children, 
carried  to  them  a  pirogue  of  provisions,  keeping  of! 
with  his  sword  the  leaders,  who  would  fain  have  pre- 
vented these  greedy  innocents  from  satiating  their  ap- 
petites. 

While  on  this  island,  a  great  number  of  boatmen 
are  said  to  have  joined,  to  take  them  at  their,  profes- 


279 


sion  of  having  no  regard  for  the  world,  or  the  things  of 
it,  and  robbed  them  of  all  their  money,  differently* 
stated  to  be  between  five  and  ten  thousand  dollars. 
From  this  plaee,  reduced  in  number  by  desertion  and 
death,  in  their  descent  to  the  mouth  of  the  Arkansas, 
there  were  only  the  numbers  surviving,  which  I  saw. 
When  I  asked  the  wife  of  the  prophet,  why,  instead 
of  descending  in  the  summer  to  the  sickly  country, 
they  had  not  ascended  to  the  high  and  healthy  re- 
gions of  Cape  Girardeau,  in  order  to  acclimate  them- 
selves before  their  descent  ;  their  answer  was,  that 
such  calculations  of  worldly  wisdom  were  foreign  to 
their  object;  that  they  did  not  study  advantage,  or 
calculate  to  act  as  the  world  acts  upon  such  subjects, 
but  that  suffering  was  a  part  of  their  plan.  When 
I  asked  them,  why  they  deserted  their  station  at  the 
mouth  of  the  Arkansas  on  the  Mississippi ;  they  an- 
swered, that  they  could  neither  get  corn,  pumpkins,  nor 
milk,  at  the  mouth  of  the  river,  as  the  people  there 
had  neither  fields  nor  cows  ;  that  they  could  obtain  all 
these   things  in  the    region  where  they  were,  and 
had  come   thither  for  this  purpose.     When  I  ob- 
served to  them  that  this  was  reasoning  precisely  of  a 
character  with  that,  which  I  had  been  recommending  to 
them,  in  respect  to  ascending  the  river  to  Cape  Gi- 
rardeau, and  that,  unknown  to  themselves,  they  were 
acting  upon  the  universal  principle  of  attempting  to 
better  their  condition  ;  they  discovered  that  they  had 
committed  themselves,  and  had  proved,  that  they  act- 
ed from  motives  contrary  to  their  avowed  principles, 
and  replied,  that  they  were  not  used  to  such  discus- 
sions, and  that  they  reasoned  as  differently  from  the 
world,  as  they  acted.    This  history  of  the  delusion, 
and  destruction  of  between  thirty  and  forty  people, 


280 


most  of  them  honest  and  sincere,  left  a  deep  and  melan- 
choly impression  of  the  universal  empire  of  bigotry,  and 
its  fatal  influences  in  all  ages  and  countries.  To  this 
narrative  I  shall  only  add,  that  I  heard  an  aged  man,  with 
a  long  beard,  preaching,  as  they  called  it,  at  New  Ma- 
drid. He  descended  the  Mississippi  a  year  after  these 
unfortunate  people,  and  he  also  called  himself  a  Pil- 
grim. He  was  as  wild  and  visionary  as  they  were, 
and  talked  and  acted  like  a  maniac.  He  was  descend- 
ing the  Mississippi,  as  he  said,  to  the  real  Jerusalem 
in  Asia.  He  appeared  deeply  impressed,  that  by 
going  on  in  that  direction  he  should  finally  reach  that, 
city.  There  was  a  numerous  audience,  and  I  heard 
many  of  them  expressing  their  admiration  of  his 
preaching.  Let  none  think  that  the  age  of  fanati- 
cism has  gone  by. 

I  will  record  in  this  place  another  narrative  that 
impressed  me  deeply.  It  was  a  fair  sample  of  the 
cases  of  extreme  misery  and  desolation,  that  are  often 
witnessed  on  this  river.  In  the  Sunday  school  at  New 
Madrid  we  received  three  children,  who  were  intro- 
duced to  that  place  under  the  following  circumstances. 
A  man  was  descending  the  river  with  these  three  children 
in  his  pirogue.  He  and  his  children  had  landed 
on  a  desert  island,  on  a  bitter  snowy  evening  of  De- 
cember. There  were  but  two  houses,  which  were 
at  Little  Prairie.,  opposite  the  island,  within  a  great-dis- 
tance. He  wanted  more  whiskey,  although  he  had 
already  been  drinking  it  too  freely.  Against  the  per- 
suasions of  his  children  he  left  them,  to  cross  over 
in  his  pirogue  to  these  houses,  and  renew  his  sup- 
ply. The  wind  blew  high,  and  the  river  was 
rough.  Nothing  would  dissuade  him  from  this  dan- 
gerous attempt.    He  told  them  that  he  should  return 


281 


to  them  that  night,  left  them  in  tears,  and  exposed 
to  the  pitiless  pelting  of  the  storm,  and  started 
for  his  carouse.  The  children  saw  the  boat  sink, 
before  he  had  half  crossed  the  passage.  The  man 
was  drowned.  These  forlorn  beings  were  left  with- 
out any  other  covering,  than  their  own  scanty  and 
ragged  dress,  for  he  had  taken  his  last  blanket  with 
him.  They  had  neither  fire,  nor  shelter;  and  no 
other  food  than  uncooked  pork  and  corn.  It  snowed 
fast,  and  the  night  closed  over  them  in  this  situation. 
The  elder  was  a  girl  of  six  years,  but  remarkably 
shrewd  and  acute  for  her  age.  The  next  was  a  girl 
of  four,  and  the  youngest,  a  boy  of  two.  It  was  af- 
fecting to  hear  her  describe  her  desolation  of  heart,  as 
she  set  herself  to  examining  her  resources.  She  made 
them  creep  together  and  draw  their  bare  feet  under  her 
clothes.  She  covered  them  with  leaves  and  branches, 
and  thus  they  passed  the  first  night. 

In  the  morning  the  younger  children  wept  bitterly 
with  cold  and  hunger.  The  pork  she  cut  into  small 
pieces  and  made  them  chew  corn  with  these  pieces. 
She  then  persuaded  them  to  run  about  by  setting 
them  the  example.  Then  she  made  them  return  to 
chewing  corn  and  pork.  It  should  seem  as  if  Prov- 
idence had  a  special  eye  to  these  poor  children,  for 
in  the  course  of  the  day  some  Indians  landed  on  the 
Island,  found  them,  and  as  they  were  coming  up  to 
New  Madrid,  took  them  with  them. 

In  a  cabin  at  the  mouth  of  the  Arkansas,  I  saw  a 
woman,  apparently  very  sick  of  fever  and  ague,  lying 
on  the  floor  of  the  cabin,  on  a  bear  skin,  with  an 
infant  b&be  also  sick  by  her  side.  She  had  been 
evidently  a  beautiful  woman,  and  by  her  countenance, 
and  her  manner,  as  well  as  bv  remnants  of  tattered 
36 


382 


lace  and  finery,  I  saw  that  she  had  not  been  born  and 
reared  in  this  country.  I  asked  her  for  her  story 
With  great  labour  and  exhaustion,  and  with  accents 
often  interrupted,  she  told  me  the  following  tale.  She 
was  born  in  London,  and  had  married  a  sergeant  in  the 
British  army.  He  had  been  ordered  on  the  service 
against  New  Orleans.  After  the  defeat  of  the  eighth 
of  January,  he  was  a  prisoner,  and  chose  to  remain  in 
the  country  She  had  crossed  the  Atlantic  in  pursuit 
of  her  truant  husband,  had  landed  at  New  York,  and 
made  her  way  to  Cincinnati  ;  being  here  in  extreme 
misery  and  want,  and  in  despair  of  ever  finding  her 
husband,  she  had,  as  the  horrid  but  familiar  phrase  of 
this  country  is,  u  taken  up  with  a  man  "  at  Cincinnati, 
by  whom  she  had  this  child.  After  living  with  her  a 
few  months,  he  had  deserted  her.  She  then  came 
down  in  a  boat,  until  within  sixty  miles  of  the  Arkansas, 
had  then  and  there  been  taken  extremely  ill  of  fever 
and  ague,  and  had  been  taken  in  by  a  family  who 
kept  her  as  long  as  she  had  any  clothes  or  trinkets 
left.  The  men  of  the  family  had  then  taken  her  from 
bed  after  sunset,  put  her  in  a  pirogue,  and  rowed  her 
down  during  the  night  to  the  mouth  of  the  river,  and 
there  left  her  on  the  sand-bar.  The  bank  which  it 
was  necessary  to  mount,  before  arriving  at  a  house, 
was  sixty  feet  high.  She  made  various  attempts,  as 
the  morning  sun  began  to  beat  upon  her  head,  to 
mount  this  bank,  in  hope  of  finding  either  a  house,  or 
shelter.  All  her  exertions  failed,  and  she  laid  herself 
down  and  tried  to  resign  herself  to  die. 

It  happened  that  some  men,  who  cut  wood  for  the 
steam- boats,  boarded  at  the  house  above  the  bank. 
They  were  crossing  the  river  a  third  of  a  mile  above 
the  mouth,  to  go  to  their  morning  task.    They  heard 


283 


the  wailings  of  the  infant  that  was  lying  by  its  moth- 
er. One  of  the  men  insisted  that  the  cries  were  those 
of  a  child.  The  rest  ridiculed  the  idea,  and  insisted 
that  it  was  the  scream  of  owls,  that  in  these  countries 
often  utter  their  notes  in  the  morning.  He  would  not 
he  ridiculed  out  of  his  persuasion,  crossed  back  to  the 
side  of  the  river  from  which  he  started,  descended  it 
to  the  mouth,  and  there  on  the  bar  found  the  woman 
and  her  babe.  She  was  taken  in  at  the  house  on  the 
bank,  and  treated  as  kindly  as  their  circumstances 
would  admit.  We  gave  her  counsel,  and  a  small  sum 
of  money,  collected  in  common  from  all  who  heard 
her  story,  and  left  her.  I  know  nothing  of  her  histo- 
ry beyond  that  time. 

When  we  arrived  at  the  mouth  of  the  river,  we  found 
the  Mississippi  lower  than  it  had  been  for  thirty  years. 
No  steam- boat  was  expected  for  some  time,  at  least  not 
until  the  river  should  rise.  We  concluded,  as  we  had 
a  comfortable  boat,  to  make  use  of  our  sails  when  the 
wind  would  serve,  and  make  as  much  of  our  way  as  we 
could  with  only  two  hands.  We  went  on  securely, 
though  slowly,  to  the  mouth  of  the  St.  Francis,  nearly 
a  hundred  miles,  and  it  was  a  work  of  twelve  days. 
The  season  was  more  beautiful  than  I  can  describe, 
and  the  moon  shone  sweetly  on  the  clean  white  sand- 
bars. 

At  the  St.  Francis  settlement,  we  were  acquainted 
with  an  opulent  family  of  the  name  of  Phillips.  They 
hospitably  urged  us  to  spend  the  winter  there.  Mr. 
Phillips  offered  us  part  of  his  house,  an  apartment 
sufficiently  large  and  commodious.  Considering  the 
circumstances  of  my  family  at  this  time,  it  was  my 
wish  and  my  advice  to  stay.  Mrs.  F.  was  so  ex- 
tremely anxious  to  reach  the  upper  country,  that  we 
concluded  to  go  directly  on. 


284 


Soon  after  we  left  the  St.  Francis,  both  our  hands 
were  taken  ill  of  fever  and  ague,  and  we  were  oblig- 
ed to  leave  them  behind.  We  were  now  left  with 
none  but  my  own  family,  in  the  midst  of  the  wilder- 
ness, the  heavy  current,  of  the  Mississippi  against  us, 
and  more  than  four  hundred  miles  still  before  us. 
The  river  was  so  low,  that  steam  boats  were  scarce 
on  it,  and  the  few  that  attempted  to  ascend  it  were 
aground  on  the  sand  bars.  In  fact,  no  boats  were 
seen  ascending  or  descending,  and  it  seemed  impossi- 
ble for  us  to  procure  hands  in  lieu  of  those  who  had 
left  us  on  account  of  sickness.  The  wind  generally 
blew  up  the  stream,  and  was  favourable  for  sailing,  ex- 
cept in  the  curves,  or  bends  of  the  river,  which  were 
often  so  deep  as  to  cause  that  the  wind,  which  was 
directly  in  favour  at  one  point  of  the  bend,  would  be 
directly  against  us  at  the  other.  We  made  use  of  our 
sail,  when  it  would  serve,  and  of  our  cordelle,  when 
it  would  not ;  and  in  this  way  we  went  on  cheerfully, 
though  with  inexpressible  fatigue  to  myself,  to  the 
point  between  the  first  and  the  middle  Chickasaw 
bluff.  In  arriving  here,  we  had  the  most  beautiful 
autumnal  evenings  that  I  ever  witnessed.  We  were 
"  a  feeble  folk,"  alone  in  the  wilderness.  The  owls, 
forty  in  concert,  and  in  every  whimsical  note,  from 
the  wailings  of  an  infant  babe,  to  the  deep  grunt  of 
a  drunken  German,  gave  us  their  serenade.  Ever  and 
anon,  a  wolf  would  raise  his  prolonged  and  dismal 
howl  in  the  forests.  The  gabbling  of  numberless 
water  fowls  of  every  description  on  the  sand-bars, 
was  a  kind  of  tambourine  to  the  grand  accompaniment 
of  the  owls  and  the  wolves.  The  swan  you  know  nat- 
urally plays  the  trumpet.  My  family  had  the  ague,  and 
the  paroxysm  creates  a  kind  of  poetical  excitement, 


285 


so  that  a  person  who  is  just  rising  from  the  fit,  is  in 
the  highest  degree  capable  of  enjoyment,  in  a  state  of 
mind  not  unlike  that  produced  by  the  agency  of 
opium.  Then,  when  we  were  made  fast  in  a  cove  on 
the  wide  sand-bar :  when  the  moon,  with  her  circum- 
ference broadened  and  reddened  by  the  haze  and 
smoke  of  Indian  summer,  rose,  and  diffused,  as  Cha- 
teaubriand so  beautifully  says,  the  "  great  secret  of 
melancholy  over  these  ancient  forests — after  our 
evening  prayers,  and  the  favourite  hymn,  u  The  day  is 
past  and  gone,"  &c.  I  have  spent  hoqrs  in  traversing 
the  sand-bars  entirely  alone. 

But  I  hasten  to  matters  more  appropriate  to  my 
narrative.  I  could  describe  to  you  two  days  of  exces- 
sive fatigue,  in  which  we  made  repeated  attempts  to 
pass  a  rapid  place  in  the  river,  too  rapid  to  be  passed 
with  oars,  too  muddy  to  afford  bottom  for  poles,  and 
the  shore  a  quagmire  for  a  mile  in  extent,  and  of  course 
not  admitting  the  use  of  a  cordelle.  We  tried  to  sur- 
mount this  place  for  two  days,  and  failed,  exhausted 
in  every  attempt.  We  crossed  the  river,  and  attempt- 
ed to  ascend  on  the  bend  side,  to  a  point,  where  fall- 
en-in  timber  forbade  our  going  higher.  We  then  re- 
crossed,  and  both  times  fell  below  the  impassable  place. 
Discouraged  and  wearied  out,  we  gave  up  the  attempt, 
and  expected  to  lie  there,  until  a  rise  in  the  river 
should  enable  us  to  pass  the  place,  or  until  a  passing 
steam-boat  might  tow  us  up.  How  often  do  we  find 
relief  at  a  moment  of  the  deepest  despondency  !  Just 
as  we  had  agreed  to  lie  by,  and  had  resigned  ourselves 
to  our  lot,  a  fine  breeze  sprang  up,  we  hoisted  our  sail, 
and  passed  the  difficult  place  with  perfect  ease. 

A  difficulty  stiil  more  formidable  now  awaited  us. 
We  had  expected  to  be  able  each  day  to  replenish 


286 


our  stock  of  provisions  from  the  descending  boats. 
The  season  was  sultry,  and  we  took  with  us  no  more 
than  could  be  preserved  from  day  to  day.  We  were 
in  this  wilderness  eight  days  without  seeing  a  single 
boat  pass.  You  can  easily  imagine  what  followed. 
Fortunately  we  at  length  descried  a  flat  boat  descend- 
ing ;  we  hailed  her,  and  she  told  us  to  come  on  board. 
We  did,  and  were  lashed  beside  her.  She  instantly 
discovered  our  situation,  and  made  her  own  calcula- 
tions ;  and  we  paid  thirty  dollars  for  a  barrel  of  pork 
and  one  of  flour,  meanwhile  descending  the  river  three 
miles,  which  we  were  obliged,  with  great  toil,  to  re- 
mount, in  order  to  gain  the  point  where  we  hailed  the 
boat. 

We  arrived  opposite  to  the  second  Chickasaw  bluff 
on  the  twenty-sixth  of  November.  The  country  on 
the  shore  receives  and  deserves  the  emphatic  name  of 
"  wilderness."  At  ten  in  the  morning  we  perceived 
indications  of  a  severe  approaching  storm.  The  air 
was  oppressively  sultry.  Brassy  clouds  were  visible 
upon  all  quarters  of  the  sky.  Distant  thunder  was 
heard.  We  were  upon  a  wide  sand  bar  far  from  any 
house.  Opposite  to  us  was  a  vast  cypress  swamp.  At 
this  period,  and  in  this  place,  Mrs.  F.  was  taken  in 
travail.  My  children,  wrapped  in  blankets,  laid  them- 
selves down  on  the  sand-bar.  I  secured  the  boat  in 
every  possible  way  against  the  danger  of  being  driven 
by  the  storm  into  the  river.  At  eleven  the  storm  burst 
upon  us  in  all  its  fury.  Mrs.  F.  had  been  salivated 
during  her  fever,  and  had  not  yet  been  able  to  leave 
her  couch.  I  was  alone  with  her  in  this  dreadful  sit- 
uation. Hail,  and  wind,  and  thunder,  and  rain  in  tor- 
rents poured  upon  us.  I  was  in  terror,  lest  the  wind 
would  drive  mv  boat,  notwithstanding  all  her  fasten- 


287 


ingSj  into  the  river.  No  imagination  can  reach  what  1 
endured.  The  only  alleviating  circumstance  was  her 
perfect  tranquillity.  She  knew  that  the  hour  of  sor- 
row, and  expected  that  of  death,  was  come.  She  was 
so  perfectly  calm,  spoke  with  such  tranquil  assurance 
about  the  future,  and  about  the  dear  ones  that  were  at 
this  moment  w  'biding  the  pelting  of  the  pitiless  storm  " 
on  the  sand-bar,  that  I  became  calm  myself.  A  little 
after  twelve  the  wind  burst  in  the  roof  of  my  boat,  and 
let  in  the  glare  of  the  lightning,  and  the  torrents  of 
rain  upon  my  poor  wife.  I  could  really  have  ex- 
postulated with  the  elements  in  the  language  of  the 
poor  old  Lear.  I  had  wrapped  my  wife  in  blankets^ 
ready  to  be  carried  to  the  shelter  of  the  forest,  in  case 
of  the  driving  of  my  boat  into  the  river.  About  four 
the  fury  of  the  storm  began  to  subside.  At  five  the 
sun  in  his  descending  glory  burst  from  the  dark  masses 
of  the  receding  clouds.  At  eleven  in  the  evening 
Mrs.  F.  was  safely  delivered  of  a  female  infant,  and 
notwithstanding  all,  did  well.  The;  babe,  from  pre- 
ceding circumstances,  was  feeble  and  sickly,  and  I  saw 
could  not  survive.  At  midnight  we  had  raised  a  blaz- 
ing fire.  The  children  came  into  the  boat.  Supper 
was  prepared,  and  we  surely  must  have  been  ungrate- 
ful not  to  have  sung  a  hymn  of  deliverance.  There 
can  be  but  one  trial  more  for  me  that  can  surpass  the 
agony  of  that  day,  and  there  can  never  be  on  this 
earth  a  happier  period  than  those  midnight  hours. 
The  babe  staid  with  us  but  two  days  and  an  half,  and 
expired.  The  children,  poor  things,  laid  it  deeply  to 
heart,  and  raised  a  loud  lament.  We  were,  as  I  have 
remarked,  far  away  from  all  human  aid  and  sympa- 
thy, and  left  alone  with  God.  We  deposited  the  body 
of  our  lost  babe. — laid  in  a  small  trunk  for  a  coffin, — 


288 


in  a  grave  amid  the  rushes,  there  to  await  the  resur- 
rection of  the  dead.  The  prayer  made  on  the  occa- 
sion by  the  father,  with  the  children  for  concourse  and 
mourners,  if  not  eloquent,  was,  to  us  at  least,  deeply 
affecting.  The  grave  is  on  a  high  bank  opposite  to  the 
second  Chickasaw  bluff,  and  I  have  since  passed  the 
rude  memorial  which  we  raised  on  the  spot ;  and  I 
passed  it,  carrying  to  you  my  miserable  and  exhausted 
frame,  with  little  hope  of  its  renovation,  and  in  the 
hourly  expectation  of  depositing  my  own  bones  on  the 
banks  of  the  Mississippi.  But  enongh,  and  too  much, 
of  all  this. 

After  this  disaster,  we  found  two  excellent  hands, 
whom  we  engaged  to  assist  us  to  work  our  boat  to 
the  upper  country.  Little  occurred  between  this  and 
our  reaching  that  country,  worth  relating.  You  are 
aware  that  for  the  sake  of  something  a  little  like  ar- 
rangement, in  these  desultory  remarks,  I  have  thrown 
together  the  events  that  happened  to  us  after  our  re- 
turn, and  that  they  have  been  already  related  under 
the  general  head  of  our  first  residence  in  the  upper 
country.  I  remember  being  deeply  impressed  with 
the  view  of  the  Missouri  at  St.  Charles,  after  an  ab- 
sence of  two  years.  It  has  been  always  a  'most  im- 
pressive spectacle  to  me.  You,  perhaps,  will  smile, 
that  the  sight  of  this  river  produced  one  of  those  poetic 
explosions,  that  have  so  seldom  occurred  to  me  as  to 
be  eras.  To  transcribe  the  result  to  you,  would  be  the 
jackdaw  croa^king  to  the  swan.  You  know  that  I 
never  assumed  to  be  acquainted  with  the  muses,  and 
never  flattered  myself  that  I  possessed  more  than  the 
madness,  without  the  inspiration,  of  poetry.  But  you 
have  charged  me  to  tell  all.  So  here  you  have  lines 
occasioned  by  revisiting  the  Missouri. 


289 


REFLECTIONS  ON  CROSSING  THE  MISSOURI. 

Missouri,  king  of  floods  !  my  pilgrim  course 
Once  more  has  led  me  to  thy  turbid  wave. 
Thy  broad  expanse,  re-opening  on  my  eye, 
Calls  up  anew  the  fading  images, 
And  shifting  scenes  of  joy  and  sorrow  felt 
In  long  sojourn,  while  wandering  on  thy  shores. 
How  oft  at  solemn  eve  I 've  heard  the  roar 
Gigantic  of  thy  sweeping  tide,  among 
The  funeral  columns  of  thy  fallen  sons, 
Who  erst  in  filial  piety  held  ot. 
Their  verdant  arms  to  shade  thy  banks ; 
Till,  undermined  by  thee,  with  thundering  crash? 
They  fell,  imbedded  deep  beneath  thy  wave. 
Oft  have  I  seen  thy  feathered  chiefs  moor  in 
Their  frail  canoe  from  the  far  distant  west ; 
Or  hunter's  bark,  responsive  to  the  song 
Of  sturdy  oarsmen,  measured  to  the  oar. 
Imagination,  kindled  by  thy  course 
Interminous,  thy  rapid-whirling  tide, 
Has  traced  thy  devious  channel  to  its  source. 
Where  from  a  thousand  snow-topt  piles 
Precipitous  of  nameless  mountains,  vast 
And  drear,  a  thousand  urns  pour  down 
Thy  tribute,  clear,  pellucid  as  the  air ; 
Till,  mingling  with  thy  level  world  below, 
Thou  tak'st  the  stain  that  such  alliance  gives. 
Borne  on  thy  bosom  I  have  coursed  thee  down, 
'Midst  hills,  and  cliffs,  and  outstretched  prairies  smooth, 
Where  antelopes,  and  bounding  elk,  and  buffaloes 
Lave  in  thy  stream,  and  from  afar  espy 
The  ascending  bark,  and  at  the  unwonted  view 
Of  man,  they  snufFthe  air  of  liberty, 
And  hie  away,  where  traces  of  his  feet 
37 


290 


Are  never  seen.    And  I  delight  to  view 
The  dress  fantastic,  and  the  giant  forms 
Of  varying  hordes,  thy  wandering  foresters, 
Who  rise,  mature,  and  die,  amidst  thy  vales 
Unknown  ;  unconscious  that  the  pride  of  man 
Has  called  for  more  than  thou  canst  give. 
And  still  thy  volume  swells,  advancing  on 
With  added  tribute  from  a  hundred  streams 
That  wind  amidst  their  own  vast  solitudes ; 
Till,  far  away  from  those  hoar  hills  and  rocks, 
Whence  thou  didst  spring,  great  nature's  reignT 
In  thy  rich  intervals  and  forests  deep, 
I  hear  the  tinkling  bell,  the  woodman's  axe, 
The  baying  dogs,  the  lowing  herds,  and  see 
The  first  faint  efforts  rude  of  social  toil. 

And  then  anticipation,  rapt  away, 
Forestals  thy  future  glory,  when  thy  tide 
Shall  roll  by  towns,  and  villages,  and  farms, 
Continuous,  amidst  the  peaceful  hum 
Of  happy  multitudes,  fed  from  thy  soil ; 
When  the  glad  eye  shall  cheer  at  frequent  view 
Of  gilded  spires  of  halls,  still  vocal  with  the  task 
Of  ripening  youth  ;  or  churches  sounding  high, 
Hosannas  to  the  living  God.    Mark  now ! 
Sure  harbinger  of  thy  renown  in  days  to  come, 
Against  thy  mighty  force  moves  proudly  on 
The  gay  steam-boat ;  tracing  her  path  in  foam, 
And  from  her  croaking  tube  emitting  high 
The  curling  smoke.    The  wild  uproar  suspends 
The  mellow  whistle  of  thy  favourite  bird, 
That  marks  his  frighted  course  'mid  the  green  leaves, 
In  living,  purple  light.    Thou,  mighty  stream ! 
Not  only  nourishes^  the  beauteous  mead, 
That  teems  with  flowers  of  every  scent  and  hue, 
And  forests  dark  and  deep;  but  thou  giv'st  birth 
To  solemn  thought,  and  moral  musings  high; 
For  I  remember  well,  when  from  the  gates 
Of  death  arising,  feeble,  faint,  and  wan, 


291 


And  trembling  on  my  staff,  I  gained  thy  bank, 
And  first  inhaled  again  thy  cooling  breeze ; 
I  drew  strong  contrast  of  thy  mighty  force, 
With  human  feebleness;  thy  lengthened  path 
And  everlasting  roll,  with  life's  short  span. 
Thy  current,  too,  still  urging  on  to  meet 
The  ocean-wave,  suggested  clear  to  me 
My  own  brief  passage  down  the  tide  of  time 
To  thy  dread  shore,  Eternity  !  the  place 
Of  union  with  those  dear  and  distant  friends, 
Who  started  with  me  at  life's  opening  dawn. 


I  have  touched  already  on  the  sickness  that  myself 
and  all  my  family  experienced  on  our  arrival  in  the 
"  point,"  below  St.  Charles,  where  we  afterwards 
cultivated  a  small  farm.  In  this  position,  and  in  this 
period  of  dismay,  we  received  from  you,  and  from  that 
friend,  so  noble,  so  disinterested  iu  his  kindnesses, 
proofs  of  a  remembrance  so  different  from  the  com- 
mon tokens  of  friendship,  that  I  dare  not  trust  my  pen 
or  my  heart  in  the  expression  of  my  feelings.  If  my 
career  and  my  sufferings  have  been  somewhat  differ- 
ent from  the  common  lot,  my  friends  have  differed  still 
more  from  those  of  the  e very-day  class,  that  are  called 
by  that  name.  I  have,  perhaps,  my  share  of  pride. 
But  gratitude  is  not  a  proud  feeling.  Were  it  not  that 
I  have  a  dear  family,  who  will,  I  hope,  survive  me,  I 
would  tell  all.  I  would  at  least  do  one  good  thing  for 
my  age  and  country.  I  would  prove  by  unquestion- 
able fact,  that  in  an  age  when  selfishness  and  avarice 
seem  to  increase  with  the  increasing  refinement  of  the 
day,  and  with  the  increasing  ability  of  wealth  to  pur- 
chase enjoyment,  there  are  at  least  some  minds,  which 
"  modern  degeneracy  has  not  reached."    44  Age,  mac- 


292 


te'virtute."  The  doings  of  such  minds  need  not  be 
blazoned.  "  They  are  satisfied  from  themseives." 
By  the  help  and  the  advice  of  those  friends,  in  the 
autumn  of  1822  we  descended  the  Mississippi  to  New 
Orleans. 


LETTER  XXIII. — JVETV  ORLEANS. 

The  fourth  of  Oct.  1822,  Mr.  Willam  Postell,  a  re- 
spectable citizen  of  St.  Charles,  and  myself  having 
built  a  flat  boat  in  company,  and  fitted  it  for  the  re- 
ception of  a  family,  we  began  to  descend  the  upper 
Mississippi  for  New  Orleans.  We  had  descended  but 
a  few  miles,  when  we  were  brought  up  by  a  sand  bar, 
on  which  we  lay  four  days.  Having  unloaded  the 
boat,  and  got  off  the  sand-bar,  we  passed  the  mouth 
of  the  Missouri,  and  arrived  at  St.  Louis  on  Saturday 
evening.  On  the  Sabbath  I  preached  to  a  very  seri- 
ous audience  a  farewell  discourse.  Many  circum- 
stances concurred  to  give  solemnity  to  this  parting. 
From  this  place  to  the  mouth  of  the  Arkansas  nothing 
material  occurred  ;  and  having  passed  through  this 
region  and  attempted  to  describe  it  before,  it  is  un- 
necessary to  add  any  thing  here.  We  passed  this 
river  the  last  of  October.  There  is  a  settlement  fifty 
miles  below  its  mouth,  called  Point  Ohico.  With 
this  small  exception,  the  greater  proportion  of  the 
country  is  an  unbroken  and  inundated  wilderness, 
for  nearly  two  hundred  miles.  At  Point  Ohico,  or 
the  great  Cypress  Bend,  we  first  discover  that  very 
singular  drapery  that  appends  itself  to  the  forests, 
and  gives  them  such  a  funereal  gloom,  the  long 


293 


moss.  About  the  same  place  we  first  see  that  we  are 
in  a  new  climate,  by  witnessing  the  palmetto,  or  fan 
palm,  a  beautiful  evergreen,  having  a  character  ap- 
parently between  a  shrub  and  an  herb,  and  of  which  I 
shall  hereafter  attempt  a  description.  I  have  per- 
haps remarked,  that  there  is  but  one  bluff  visible  on 
the  west  shore  of  the  Mississippi,  from  Cape  Girar- 
deau to  Aew  Orleans.  That  is  the  St.  Francis  bluff. 
On  the  eastern  shore,  the  bluffs  appear,  bounding  the 
river,  or  in  many  places  in  the  distance.  Below  the 
mouth  of  the  Ohio  there  come  in  no  important  riv- 
ers, until  you  arrive  at  the  mouth  of  the  Yazoo,  of 
famous  memory  in  the  ancient  Georgia  land  specula- 
tions. Soon  after  you  pass  the  mouth  of  that  river, 
your  eye  is  cheered  with  the  green  heads  of  the  Wal- 
nut Hills.  They  are  beautiful  and  rich  eminences, 
clad  with  an  abundance  of  those  trees  whose  name 
they  bear.  Here,  too,  you  begin  to  see  the  southern 
style  of  building,  the  indications  of  being  among  the 
opulent  cotton-planters.  The  stranger  inquires  the 
object  and  use  of  a  cluster  of  little  buildings  that  lie 
about  the  principal  house,  like  bee-hives.  These  are 
the  habitations  of  the  negroes.  When  I  descended  the 
Mississippi,  there  was  no  village  on  the  eastern  shore 
of  the  river,  above  Warrenton.  A  very  considerable 
village  has  arisen  between  that  time  and  this,  at  some 
distance  above ;  and  from  the  number  of  houses  and 
stores,  and  of  boats  lying  in  the  harbour,  I  should  sup- 
pose it  a  place  of  considerable  trade.  A  town  in  this 
region,  with  a  fortunate  location,  is  like  Jonah's  gourd, 
the  growth  of  a  night. 

As  a  general  remark  it  may  be  observed,  that  from 
the  commencement  of  the  Walnut  Hills  to  Baton 
Rouge,  between  two  and  three  hundred  miles,  the 


294 


bluffs  cither  bound  the  river,  or  approach  very  near  to 
it  on  the  eastern  shore.  They  have  every  variety  of 
form,  and  are  often  of  the  most  whimsical  conforma- 
tion, and  crowned  with  beach  and  hickory  trees. 
Here  also  you  begin  to  discover  ihe  ever- verdant  laurel 
magnolia,  with  its  beautiful  foliage  of  the  thickness 
and  the  feeling  of  leather.  The  holly  and  a  variety  of 
evergreens  begin  to  show  themselves  among  the  other 
trees.  On  the  opposite  shore,  you  still  have  the  som- 
bre and  inundated  forest,  deep  covered  with  its  drape- 
ry of  crape,  and  here  and  there  indented  with  its 
plantation. 

Warrenton  is  the  first  considerble  village  below 
New  Madrid.  Indeed  there  are  two  villages  com- 
menced, the  one  on  the  high  bluff,  formely  called  Fort 
Pickering,  and  now  Memphis,  in  Alabama,  and  anoth- 
er at  the  St.  Francis  bluffs,  in  the  territory  of  Arkansas. 
They  are  both  inconsiderable.  At  Warrenton  there  are 
regular  streets,  brick  buildings,  and  good  houses  and 
stores,  and  I  should  suppose  nearly  one  hundred 
dwellings.  In  descending,  we  passed  part  of  a  day 
and  a  night  here.  I  inquired  if  there  were,  in  the 
village,  any  profeesors  of  religion  ;  and  I  was  directed 
to  a  young  lady,  whose  husband  had  something  of 
the  appearance  of  a  dandy,  and  who  answered  m^ 
inquiries  about  the  profession  of  his  wife,  with  a 
shrug,  and  a  half-suppressed  smile,  informing  me  that 
she  was  a  Methodist,  but  would  be  glad  to  converse 
with  any  person  who  wore  the  garb  and  appearance 
of  a  minister.  He  gave  me  clearly  to  understand  that 
it  was  no  affair  of  his,  and  that  1  must  converse  with 
her  alone.  She  spoke  discouragingly  about  the  wil- 
lingness of  the  people  to  assemble  for  public  worship. 
I  retired,  considering  it  as  a  hopeless  attempt,  and  in- 


295 


tending  to  pass  on  without  any  public  exercise.  But 
in  the  course  of  the  evening  a  number  of  the  citizens 
came  on  board,  offering  their  houses,  and  wishing  to 
have  public  worship.  There  was  a  full  house  and 
apparently  an  attentive  audience.  When  we  left,  the 
next  morning,  the  people  expressed  regret,  that  in  so 
considerable  a  village,  in  the  midst  of  an  opulent  set- 
tlement, whence  very  considerable  quantities  of  cot- 
ton were  shipped,  the  people  should  have  so  little 
public  spirit,  and  so  little  religious  feeling,  as  to  have 
no  place  of  public  worship. 

Natchez  is  romantically  situated,  in  two  divisions. 
The  river  business  is  transacted  at  the  town,  "  under 
the  hill,"  as  it  is  called,  a  repulsive  place,  the  centre 
of  all  that  is  vile,  from  the  upper  and  lower  country. 
At  the  proper  season  a  thousand  boats  are  lying  here 
at  the  landing,  and  the  town  is  full  of  boatmen,  mu- 
lartoes,  houses  of  ill  fame,  and  their  wretched  tenants, 
in  short,  the  refuse  of  the  world.  The  fiddle  screaks 
jargon  from  these  faucibus  orci.  You  see  the 
unhappy  beings  dancing ;  and  here  they  have  what  are 
called  "  rows,"  which  often  end  in  murder.  The 
town  is  situated  on  the  summit  of  a  bluff,  three  hun- 
dred feet  in  height,  from  which  you  look  upon  the 
cultivated  strip  of  Concordia,  on  the  opposite  shore, 
in  the  state  of  Louisiana,  and  the  boundless  and  level 
summits  of  the  cypress  swamps  beyond.  On  the 
eastern  side,  the  country  is  waving,  rich,  and  beautiful ; 
the  eminence  is  crowned  with  neat  country  houses. 
The  town  itself  is  quiet,  the  streets  broad,  some  of 
the  public  buildings  handsome,  and  the  whole  has  the 
appearance  of  comfort  and  opulence.  It  is  the  prin- 
cipal town  in  this  region  for  the  shipment  of  cotton, 
with  bales  of  which,  at  the  proper  season,  the  streets 


296 

are  almost  barricaded.  Some  of  the  planters  who  re- 
side here  are  opulent.  I  remember  to  have  heard  a 
Mrs.  Turner  spoken  of,  as  possessing  a  great  planta- 
tion, and  "  force,"  as  the  phrase  is.  The  income  of 
the  planters  is,  in  some  seasons,  from  ten  to  forty 
thousand  dollars  a  year.  The  Baptists,  Methodists, 
and  Presbyterians,  have  eath  a  church  here.  The 
Presbyterian  church  and  society  is  large  and  respecta- 
ble. A  stranger  is  kindly  received  by  the  opulent 
people  of  this  town, — city  I  should  say,  for  they  call  it 
so.  It  has  a  ( harming  aspect  of  quietness  and  repose. 
Here  too,  you  see  the  ruins  of  Fort  Rosalie,  and  the 
scene  of  the  wild,  but  splendid  and  affecting  romance 
of  Atala.  You  can  refer  to  the  census  for  the  num- 
ber of  the  inhabitants.  You  know  that  I  write  "  with- 
out book."  I  should  suppose  that  both  towns,  the 
upper  and  lower,  might  contain  seven  or  eight  thousand 
inhabitants.  Notwithstanding  its  cleanliness,  ele- 
vation, and  apparent  purity  of  atmosphere,  it  has  had 
repeated  and  severe  visitations  of  yellow  fever. 

On  the  opposite  shore,  the  state  of  Louisiana  is 
bounded  by  the  western  shore  of  the  Mississippi,  a 
considerable  distance  above  this  ;  the  limits  between  it 
and  the  territory  of  Arkansas  being  33°.  The  state 
of  Mississippi  extends  on  the  eastern  shore  for  a  con- 
siderable distance  below.  The  scenery  has  little  va- 
riation. You  are  struck  with  the  curious  stripes  of 
red,  yellow,  and  white,  in  the  earth  of  the  bluff  banks 
on  the  eastern  shore.  They  mark  the  strata  of  the 
soil,  and  are  of  wonderful  regularity.  The  planta- 
tions, too,  become  more  common,  and  the  streets  of 
little  buildings,  that  cluster  about  the  principal  one,  in- 
dicate a  greater  number  of  negroes.  Eighty  miles  be- 
low Natchez,  on  the  western,  or  Louisiana  side,  comes 


297 


in  Red  River,  of  which  I  mean  to  speak  in  another 
place.  Not  far  from  the  point  opposite  to  the  mouth  of 
this  river,  the  state  of  Louisiana  is  bounded  by  Missis- 
sippi, and  the  river  runs  wholly  in  that  state  to  the 
Gulf  of  Mexico. 

At  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  miles  above  New 
Orleans  commences  the  levee,  on  the  western  shore. 
It  is  an  artificial  mound  of  earth,  of  considerable  ele- 
vation, raised  to  prevent  the  inundation  of  the  river. 
It  commences,  too,  on  the  eastern  shore,  a  little  below 
this,  and  is  continued  on  both  sides  to  New  Orleans. 
Were  it  not  for  these  mounds,  this  rich,  beautiful,  and 
productive  strip  of  soil,  called  "  the  coast,"  would  be 
annually  inundated.  At  Point  Coupe,  the  coast 
commences  in  its  beauty.  Here  you  begin  to  see 
orange  groves,  and  the  spreading,  and  verdant  branch- 
es of  the  live-oak.  Here,  too,  you  see  that  mag- 
nificent plant,  which  the  French  call  "  peet,"  with  its 
foliage  perfectly  green  during  the  winter,  and  the 
extremities  of  its  leaves  terminating  with  a  thousand 
thorny  points.  In  this  village  lived,  and  died,  Mr. 
Poydras,  greatly  distinguished  for  his  wealth  and 
benevolence.  Let  the  great  have  columns,  and  their 
names  be  "  written  on  a  pillar,"  when  they  die ;  for 
me,  I  would  covet,  above  all  things,  the  monument  of 
Poydras.  He  endowed  orphan  asylums  in  the  city 
of  New  Orleans ;  he  gave  the  proceeds  of  a  hand- 
some property,  twenty  thousand  dollars,  I  believe, 
to  be  distributed  in  marriage  portions  to  a  num- 
ber of  poor  girls  in  the  adjoining  parishes ;  ;md  he 
left  various  other  magnificent  chanties.  He  left  in 
particular  an  ample  endowment  to  the  school  in  his 
own  parish.  • 
38 


298 

Opposite  to  this  place  is  the  town  of  St.  Francisville, 
a  considerable  village,  in  which  is  published  a  weekly 
paper.  It  is  the  seat  of  justice  for  the  parish  of  Feli-' 
eiana,  a  parish  affording  fine  plantations,  and  possessing 
a  broken  but  very  rich  soil.  There  are  about  this  town 
many  delightful  plantations  and  houses.  The  owners 
have  had  the  taste  and  discernment  to  leave  beautiful 
groves  of  trees  about  their  houses.  Here  the  different 
species  of  laurel  trees  begin  to  make  a  considerable 
proportion  of  the  whole  forest.  The  planters  in  this 
vicinity  are  "  novi  homines  " — men  who  have  made 
their  own  fortunes.  Many  of  them  are  very  opulent, 
and  vast  quantities  of  cotton  are  shipped  from  this 
place. 

Below  here  you  begin  to  discover  that  a  new  and 
most  beautiful  species  of  cultivation, — the  sugar  cane, 
— alternates  with  the  cotton- fields.  Baton  Rouge  is  a 
village  charmingly  situated  on  the  eastern  bank  of  the 
Mississippi,  one  hundred  and  fifty  miles  above  New 
Orleans.  It  is  the  last  of  the  bluffs  on  the  eastern 
shore.  It  does  not,  like  the  bluffs  above,  rise  perpen- 
dicularly from  the  river,  but  by  a  gentle  and  gradual 
swell.  The  United  States  barracks  are  built  in  a  fine 
style,  and  are,  I  should  suppose,  among  the  most  com- 
modious works  of  that  class.  From  the  esplanade, 
the  prospect  is  most  delightful,  including  a  great  ex- 
tent of  the  coast,  with  its  handsome  houses  and  rich 
cultivation  below,  and  commanding  an  extensive  view 
into  the  back  country  at  the  east.  There  are  general- 
ly two  or  three  companies  of  United  States  troops 
stationed  here,  under  high  discipline,  and  with  a  fine 
band  of  music.  On  the  parade  stands  a  beautiful 
monument  of  white  marble,  consecrated  to  the  mem- 
ory  of  some  officers  of  the  garrison,  who  deceased 


299 

4 

here.  It  is  not  an  expensive,  but  a  very  striking  mon- 
ument ;  and  the  inscription  is  worth  recording,  as  tend- 
ing, perhaps,  to  show  how  very  important  a  being 
man  is  in  these  regions,  where  disease  and  mortality 
are  so  common.  As  far  as  my  memory  serves  me, 
these  are  the  verses  after  the  record  of  the  names  and 
ages  of  the  deceased  : 

"  Like  bubbles  on  a  sea  of  matter  borne, 
We  rise,  we  burst,  and  to  that  sea  return." 

It  is  matter  of  regret,  that  in  a  country  professedly 
christian,  any  inscription  should  ever  find  a  place  on  a 
funeral  monument,  that  bears  no  allusion  to  our  hope 
of  immortality. 

In  the  winter  of  1823,  in  January,  I  ascended  the 
Mississippi.  The  verdure  of  the  country  about  this 
town,  as  seen  from  the  steam-boat,  was  brilliant ;  and 
the  town  itself,  rising  with  such  a  fine  swell  from  the 
river,  with  its  singularly  shaped  French  and  Spanisli 
houses,  and  green  squares,  looked  in  the  distance 
like  a  fine  landscape  painting.  The  village  is  com- 
pact, and  probably  contains  two  or  three  thousand 
inhabitants.  I  might  remark,  that,  below  the  mouth 
of  Red  River,  below  this  town,  at  different  points 
between  this  and  the  Gulf,  there  burst  out  of  the 
Mississippi  what  are  called  Bayous,  which  ibrm  very 
considerable  rivers,  and  carry  off  no  inconsiderable 
portions  of  the  waters  of  the  river  by  their  own  sepa- 
rate channels  to  the  Gulf  of  Mexico.  Some  of  them 
are  boatable,  and,  like  the  parent  stream,  have  high 
and  cultivated  banks. 

Below  Baton  Rouge  the  banks  on  both  sides  of  the 
river  become  uniform.  The  levee  is  continuous.  The 
cultivation  of  cotton,  sugar-cane,  and  rice,  has  become 
regular.    The  breadth  of  the  cultivated  lands  is  gene- 


300 


rally  two  miles  ;  a  perfectly  uniform  strip,  conforming 
to  the  shape  of  the  river,  and  every  where  bounding 
the  deep  forests  of  the  Mississippi  swamp  with  a  regu- 
lar line.  In  the  whole  distance  to  New  Orleans, 
plantation  touches  plantation.  I  have  seen  in  no  part 
of  the  United  States  such  a  rich  and  highly  cultivated 
tract  of  the  same  extent.  It  far  exceeds  that  on  the 
banks  of  the  Delaware.  Noble  houses,  massive  su^ar- 
hou^es,  neat  summer-houses,  and  numerous  negro 
villages  succeed  each  other  in  such  a  way,  that  the 
whole  distance  has  the  appearance  of  one  continued 
village.  The  houses  are  airy  and  neat,  some  of  them 
splendid,  and  in  the  midst  of  orange  groves  and  pretty 
gardens,  in  which  are  the  delicious  cape  jessamine,  a 
flowering  shrub,  multitudes  of  altheas,  bowers  of  the 
multillora  rose,  and  a  great  variety  of  vines  and  flower- 
ing shrubs,  that  flourish  in  this  mild  climate.  Among 
the  noblest  of  the  plantations  is  that  of  General  Hamp- 
ton, one  of  the  questionable  heroes  of  the  late  war. 

It  produces  a  painful  sensation  in  the  mind  of  a  seri- 
ous Protestant,  that  there  is  not  discoverable  in  all  the 
distance  from  St.  Francisville  to  New  Orleans,  on 
either  shore,  a  single  Protestant  house  of  worship. 
We  need  not  cross  the  ocean  to  Hindostan  to  find 
whole  regions  destitute  of  even  the  forms  of  christian 
worship.  The  Catholics  have,  indeed,  churches  here  ; 
and  the  spires,  seen  at  intervals  of  six  or  seven  miles, 
cheer  the  eye.  In  ascending  or  descending  through 
this  richest  agricultural  district  in  the  Union,  the  trav- 
eller has  an  eager  curiosity  during  the  first  passage. 
There  is  a  novelty  and  freshness  in  the  picture  which 
keeps  alive  curiosity.  But  the  cquntry  is  so  level,  the 
mansions  so  uniform,  the  fields  so  exactly  alike,  and 
the  whole  aspect  has  such  a  tiresome  sameness,  that  a 


301 

traveller  is  apt  to  sail  a  second  time  past  this  rich  land- 
scape without  interest  or  curiosity.  It  is  indeed  al- 
ways pleasant  to  see  the  fields,  the  gardens,  the  fine 
houses,  apparently  moving  past  as  you  descend,  like 
the  landscapes  in  a  magic  lantern.  There  is  one 
curious  circumstance  worthy  of  notice  in  this  descent, 
especially  if  the  river  rises  to  its  banks.  You  seem  to 
move  on  an  elevated  plain,  and  you  look  down  on  the 
subjacent  plantations  some  feet  below  you.  The 
strokes  of  the  axe  and  the  report  of  guns  have  a  sin- 
gular sound  in  the  ear,  as  though  the  noise  com- 
menced under  water. 

One  hundred  .miles  from  the  mouth  of  the  Mississippi, 
and  something  more  than  a  thousand  from  the  mouth 
of  the  Ohio,  just  below  a  sharp  point  of  the  river,  w 
situated  on  its  east  bank,  the  city  of  New  Orleans, 
the  great  commercial  capital  of  the  Mississippi  val- 
ley. The  position  for  a  commercial  city  is  unri- 
valled, 1  believe,  by  any  one  in  the  world.  At  a  prop- 
er distance  from  the  Gulf  of  Mexico, — on  the  banks 
of  a  stream  which  may  be  said  almost  to  water  a 
world, — but  a  little  distance  from  Lake  Ponchartrain, 
and  connected  with  it  by  a  navigable  canal, — the  im- 
mense alluvion  contiguous  to  it, — penetrated  in  all  di- 
rections either  by  Bayous  formed  by  nature,  or  canals 
which  cost  little  more  trouble  in  the  making,  than 
ditches, — steamboats  visiting  it  from  fifty  different 
shores, — possessing  the  immediate  agriculture  of  its 
own  state,  the  richest  in  America,  and  as  rich  as  any  in 
the  world,  with  the  continually  increasing  agriculture  of 
the  upper  country,  its  position  far  surpasses  that  of 
Ne w.York  itself.  It  has  one  dreary  drawback — the  in- 
salubrity of  its  situation.  Could  the  immense  swamps 
between  it  and  the  bluffs  be  drained,  and  the  improve- 


302 


merits  commenced  in  the  city  be  completed  ;  in  short, 
could  its  atmosphere  ever  become  a  dry  one,  it  would 
soon  leave  the  greatest  cities  of  the  Union  behind. 

Great  efforts  are  making  towards  this  result.  Un- 
happily, when  the  dogstar  rises  upon  its  sky,  the  yel- 
low fever  is  but  too  sure  to  come  in  its  train.  Not- 
withstanding the  annual,  or  at  least  the  biennial  visits 
of  this  pestilence  ;  although  its  besom  sweeps  off  mul- 
titudes of  unacclimated  poor,  and  compels  the  rich  to 
fly ;  notwithstanding  the  terror,  that  is  every  where  as- 
sociated with  the  name  of  the  city,  it  is  rapidly  ad- 
vancing in  population.  When  I  visit  the  city,  after 
the  absence  of  a  season,  I  discover  an  obvious  change. 
New  buildings  have  sprung  up,  and  new  improvements 
are  going  on.  Its  regular  winter  population,  between 
forty  and  fifty  thousand  inhabitants,  is  five  times  the 
amount  which  it  had,  when  it  came  under  the  Ameri- 
can government.  The  external  form  of  the  city  on 
the  river  side  is  graduated  in  some  measure  to  the 
curve  of  the  river.  The  street  that  passes  along  the 
levee,  and  conforms  to  the  course  of  the  river,  is  cal- 
led Levee  street,  and  is  the  one  in  wrhich  the  great- 
est and  most  active  business  of  the  city  is  transacted. 
The  upper  part  of  the  city  is  principally  built  and  in- 
habited by  Americans,  and  is  called  the  "  fauxbourg 
St.  Mary."  The  greater  number  of  the  houses  in 
this  fauxbourg  are  of  brick,  and  built  in  the  American 
style.  In  this  quarter  are  the  Presbyterian  church 
and  the  new  theatre.  The  ancient  part  of  the  city, 
as  you  pass  down  Levee  street  towards  the  Cathedral, 
has  in  one  of  the  clear,  bright  January  mornings,  that 
are  so  common  at  that  season,  an  imposing  and  bril- 
liant aspect.  There  is  something  fantastic  and  unique 
in  the  appearance,  I  am  told,  far  more  resembling  Eu- 


303 


ropean  cities,  than  any  other  in  the  United  States. 
The  houses  are  stuccoed  externally,  and  this  stucco  is 
white  or  yellow,  and  strikes  the  eye  more  pleasantly 
than  the  dull  and  sombre  red  of  brick.  There  can  be 
no  question,  but  the  American  mode  of  building  is  at 
once  more  commodious,  and  more  solid  and  durable, 
than  the  French  and  Spanish  ;  but  I  think  the  lat- 
ter have  the  preference  in  the  general  effect  upon  the 
eye.  Young  as  the  city  is,  the  effect  of  this  humid 
climate,  operating  upon  the  mouldering  materials,  of 
which  the  buildings  are  composed,  has  already  given 
it  the  aspect  of  age,  and  to  the  eye,  it  would  seem 
the  most  ancient  city  in  the  United  States.  The 
streets  are  broad,  and  the  plan  of  the  city  is  perfectly 
rectangular  and  uniform.  There  are  in  the  limits  of 
the  city  three  malls,'  or  parade  grounds,  of  no  great 
extent,  and  not  yet  sufficiently  shaded,  though  young 
trees  are  growing  in  them.  They  serve  as  parade 
grounds,  and  in  the  winter  have  a  beautiful  carpet  of 
clover,  of  a  most  brilliant  green.  Royal  and  Charter 
streets  are  the  most  fashionable  and  splendid  in  the 
city.  The  parade  ground,  near  the  basin,  which  is 
a  harbour,  dug  out  to  receive  the  lake  vessels,  is  the 
most  beautiful  of  the  parades. 

Its  most  conspicuous  public  buildings,  are  the  cathe- 
dral, the  Presbyterian  church,  the  charity  hospital, 
and  the  New  Orleans  college.  The  cathedral,  to 
me  who  profess  to  know  nothing  of  architecture,  is  a 
most  imposing  fabric,  not  so  much  from  its  size,  as 
its  structure,  the  massiveness  of  its  walls,  and  within, 
its  wonderful  adaptation  in  my  mind  to  excite  relig- 
ious feelings.  Under  its  stone  pavements  are  deposit- 
ed the  illustrious  dead.  In  niches  and  recesses  are 
figures  of  the  saints,  in  their  appropriate  dress,  and 


304 

with  those  pale  and  unearthly  countenances,  that  are 
so  fully  in  keeping  with  the  ideal  image  which  I 
have  formed  of  them.  The  walls  are  so  thick,  and  so 
constructed,  that  although  in  the  very  centre  and  bus- 
tle of  the  noise  and  business  of  the  city,  you  hear 
only  a  kind  of  confused  whisper  within,  and  are  almost 
as  still  as  in  the  centre  of  a  forest.  This  deep  and 
unalterable  repose,  in  the  midst  of  noise  and  life,  fur- 
nishes a  happy  illustration  of  the  state  of  a  religious 
mind,  amidst  the  distractions  of  the  world.  You  go 
but  a  few  paces  from  the  crowds  that  are  pressing 
along  Levee  street,  and  from  the  rattle  of  carriages 
that  are  stationed  near  this  place,  and  jou  find  your- 
self in  a  kind  of  vaulted  apartment,  and  in  perfect 
stillness  ;  the  tapers  are  burning,  and  some  few  are  al- 
ways kneeling  within,  in  silent  prayer.  Images  of 
death,  of  the  invisible  world,  of  eternity,  surround 
you.  The  dead  sleep  under  your  feet.  You  are  in 
the  midst  of  life,  and  yet  there  reigns  here  a  perpet- 
ual tranquillity.  To  me  there  is  something  in  this 
stillness,  within  these  massive  walls,  in  this  apartment 
so  dimly  lighted,  and  in  these  finishings  of  imperisha- 
ble and  shapeless  stone,  more  congenial  to  religious 
feeling,  than  in  the  brilliant  and  highly  finished,  and 
strongly  ligjited  interior  of  Protestant  churches. 

The  Presbyterian  church  is  of  brick,  and  is  a  very 
large  and  handsome  building.  The  Episcopal  church 
is  small,  but  light  and  neat  in  its  structure.  The  jail 
and  the  French  theatre  are  very  large,  and,  externally, 
disagreeable  buildings  ;  though  the  coup  d'ceil  of  the 
view  in  the  interior  of  the  French  theatre  is  very  bril- 
liant. The  charity  hospital,  though  not  a  verjt  beauti- 
ful building,  has  a  moral  beauty  of  the  highest  order. 
It  is  probably  one  of  the  most  efficient  and  useful  char- 


305 


ities  in  the  country.  New  Orleans  is  of  course  expos- 
ed to  greater  varieties  of  human  misery,  vice,  disease, 
and  want,  than  any  other  American  town.  Here 
misery  and  disease  find  a  home,  clean  apartments, 
faithfid  nursing,  and  excellent  medical  attendance. 
Under  this  roof  more  miserable  subjects  have  been  shel- 
tered, more  have  been  dismissed  cured,  and  more  have 
been  carried  to  their  long  home,  than  from  any  other 
hospital  among  us. 

The  college  has  hitherto  been  of  very  little  utility 
to  literature,  though  it  has  swallowed  up  ample  funds. 
It  has  been  recently  organized  and  constituted  anew 
under  a  learned  president,  and  it  is  hoped  will  redeem 
the  past,  and  give  a  new  character  to  the  literature  of 
the  city.  There  is  a  convent  of  Ursuline  nuns,  with 
whose  interior  regulations  I  am  not  acquainted,  though 
I  understand  that  they  receive  clay  scholars,  and  board- 
ers, for  the  various  branches  of  rudimental  instruction. 
The  female  orphan  asylum  is  a  most  interesting  chari- 
ty, dating  its  efficient  operations  from  the  charity  of 
the  benevolent  Poydras.  When  I  visited  this  place, 
there  were  between  seventy  and  eighty  female  chil- 
dren under  sober  and  discreet  instructresses,  all  plainly 
and  neatly  clad,  all  engaged  either  with  their  sewing 
or  their  book,  and  all  rescued  from  a  condition  the 
most  completely  forlorn  and  destitute.  There  is  a 
iberaliry  in  their  religious  instruction,  about  the  merits 
of  which  people  of  course  will  differ.  They  are 
dossed  in  uniforms  of  domestic  cotton,  and  plain 
white  bonnets,  and  under  their  instructresses  they 
worship  one  part  of  the  time  in  the  cathedral  and  the 
other  in  the  Presbyterian  church.  They  have  com- 
menced an  institution  of  the  like  character,  for  desti- 
39 


306 


tute  boys  ;  and  various  other  charities  are  in  com- 
mencement or  contemplation. 

The  police  of  the  city  is  at  once  mild  and  energetic. 
And  notwithstanding  the  multifarious  character  of  the 
inhabitants,  collected  from  every  country  and  climate, 
notwithstanding  the  multitudes  of  boatmen  and  sail- 
ors, notwithstanding  the  mass  of  people  that  rushes 
along  the  streets  is  of  the  most  incongruous  materials, 
I  have  seen  fewer  broils  and  quarrels  here  than  in  any 
city  where  I  have  resided  so  long.  For  all  the  evils 
that  naturally  arise  among  such  a  people,  the  munici- 
pal court  finds  a  prompt  if  not  a  proper  remedy. 
Nothing  so  effectually  operates  to  prevent  larcenies 
and  broils  in  such  a  place,  as  administering  prompt 
j  ustice.  They  have  not  to  complain  here  of  the  "  law's 
delay"  in  all  these  matters. 

They  have  been  at  great  expense  in  erecting  steam 
works  to  supply  the  city  with  water.  That  of  the 
Mississippi,  when  filtered,  is  admirable.  The  streets 
are  also  washed,  and  the  sewers  cleansed,  by  water 
from  the  river.  When  these  works  are  carried  into 
complete  operation,  no  city  in  the  Union  will  be  more 
amply  supplied  with  better  water  than  this  place.  The 
taverns  and  hotels  are  numerous,  some  of  them  splen- 
did, and  on  as  respectable  footing  as  the  best  in  the 
Atlantic  states. 

In  respect  to  the  manners  of  the  people,  those  of  the 
French  citizens  partake  of  their  general  national  char- 
acter. They  have  here  their  characteristic  politeness 
and  urbanity  ;  and  it  may  be  remarked,  that  ladies 
of  the  highest  standing  will  shew  courtesies  that 
would  not  comport  with  the  ideas  of  dignity  enter- 
tained by  the  ladies  at  the  North.  In  their  convivial 
meetings  there  is  apparently  a  great  deal  of  cheerful 


307 


familiarity,  tempered,  however,  with  the  most  scrupu- 
lous observances,  and  the  most  punctilious  decorum. 
They  are  the  same  gay,  dancing,  spectacle-loving 
race,  that  they  are  everywhere  else.  It  is  well  known 
that  the  Catholic  religion  does  not  forbid  amusements 
on  the  Sabbath.  They  fortify  themselves  in  defending 
the  custom  of  going  to  balls  and  the  theatre  on  the 
Sabbath,  by  arguing  that  religion  ought  to  inspire 
cheerfulness  and  that  cheerfulness  is  associated  with 
religion. 

That  all  the  citizens  do  not  think  alike  upon  this 
subject,  will  appear  from  an  anecdote  which  I  will 
take  leave  to  relate.  The  French  play-bill  for  the 
play  of  Sabbath  evening  was  posted,  as  usual,  on  Sab- 
bath morning  at  the  corners  of  all  the  streets.  To- 
wards evening  of  the  same  Sabbath,  I  observed  that  a 
paper  of  the  same  dimensions,  and  the  same  type,  but 
in  English,  was  every  where  posted  directly  under  the 
French  bill.  It  contained  appropriate  texts  from  the 
scriptures,  and  was  headed  with  these  words ;  "  Re  - 
member the  Sabbath  day  to  keep  it  holy,';  and  men- 
tioning that  there  would  be  divine  service  at  a  place 
that  was  named,  in  the  evening.  * 

The  Americans  come  hither  from  all  the  states. 
Their  object  is  to  accumulate  wealth,  and  spend  it 
somewhere  else.  But  death, — which  they  are  very  lit- 
tle disposed  to  take  into  the  account, — often  brings  them 
up  before  their  scheme  is  accomplished.  They  have, 
as  might  be  expected  of  an  assemblage  from  different 
regions,  mutual  jealousies,  and  mutual  dispositions  to 
figure  in  each  other's  eyes  ;  of  course  the  iNew  Or- 
leans people  are  gay,  gaudy  in  their  dress,  houses,  fur- 
niture, and  equipage,  and  rather  fine  than  in  the  best, 
taste. 


308 


There  are  sometimes  fifty  steam-boats  lying  in  the 
harbour.  A  clergyman  from  the  North  made  with  me 
the  best  enumeration  that  we  could,  and  we  calculated 
that  there  were  from  twelve  to  fifteen  hundred  flat 
boats  lying  along  the  river.  They  would  average 
from  forty  to  sixty  tons  burden.  The  number  of  ves- 
sels in  the  harbour  from  autumn  to  spring  is  very 
great.  More  cotton  is  shipped  from  this  port  than 
from  any  other  in  America,  or  perhaps  in  the  world. 
I  could  never  have  formed  a  conception  of  the  amount 
in  any  other  way,  than  by  seeing  the  immense  piles  of 
it  that  fill  the  streets,  as  the  crop  is  coming  in.  It  is 
well  known  that  the  amount  of  sugar  raised  and  ship- 
ped here  is  great,  and  increasing.  The  produce  from 
the  upper  country  has  no  limits  to  the  extent  of  which 
it  is  capable  ;  and  the  commerce  of  this  important  city 
goes  on  steadily  increasing. 

This  city  exhibits  the  greatest  variety  of  costume, 
and  foreigners ;  French,  Spanish,  Portuguese,  Irish  in 
shoals,  in  short,  samples  of  the  common  people  of  all 
the  European  nations,  Creoles,  all  the  intermixtures 
of  Negro  and  Indian  blood,  the  moody  and  ruminating 
Indians,  the  inhabitants  of  the  Spanish  provinces,  and 
a  goodly  woof  to  this  warp,  of  boatmen,  "  half  horse 
and  half  alligator;"  and  more  languages  are  spoken 
here,  than  in  any  other  town  in  America.  There 
is  a  sample,  in  short,  of  every  thing.  In  March  the 
town  is  most  filled  ;  the  market  shows  to  the  greatest 
advantage ;  the  citizens  boast  of  it,  and  are  impress- 
ed with  the  opinion  that  it  far  surpasses  any  other.  In 
efTect  this  is  the  point  of  union  between  the  North  and 
the  South.  The  productions  of  all  climes  find  their 
way  hither,  and  for  fruits  and  vegetables,  it  appears  to 
me  to  be  unrivalled.    In  a  pleasant  March  forenoon, 


309 


you  see,  perhaps,  half  the  city  here.  The  crowd  cov- 
ers half  a  mile  in  extent.  The  negroes,  muiattoes, 
French,  Spanish,  Germans,  are  all  crying  their  several 
articles  in  their  several  tongues.  They  have  a  won- 
derful faculty  of  twanging  the  sound  through  their 
noses,  as  shrill  as  the  notes  of  a  trumpet.  In  the  midst 
of  this  Babel  trumpeting,  u  un  picalion,  un  picalion," 
is  the  most  distinguishable  tune. 

Much  has  been  said  about  the  profligacy  of  man- 
ners, and  morals  here ;  and  this  place  has  more  than 
once  been  called  the  modern  Sodom.  Amidst  such  a 
multitude,  composed  in  a  great  measure  of  the  low 
people  of  all  nations,  there  must  of  course  be  much 
debauchery,  and  low  vice.  Where  it  appears  in  this 
form,  it  is  so  disgusting,  and  the  tippling  houses,  and 
other  resorts  of  vice,  have  such  an  aspect  of  beastli- 
ness and  degradation,  as  to  render  them  utterly  unbeara- 
ble. Perhaps  the  tenants  of  these  houses,  without 
intending  it,  do  a  good  office  to  the  inhabitants  in 
general,  acting  as  the  Helotes,  to  the  Spartan  children, 
rendering  these  exhibitions  of  vice,  and  degradation 
more  odious  and  disgusting.  Society  here  is  very 
much  assorted.  Each  man  has  an  elective  attraction 
to  men  of  his  own  standing  and  order.  It  is  a  ques- 
tionable point,  and  has  excited  discussion  here,  wheth- 
er it  is/iot  disgraceful  to  the  city,  to  license  gambling, 
and  other  houses  of  ill  fame.  Much  is  said  in  de- 
fence of  this'practice,  that  since  vice  will  exist,  they 
had  better  have  a  few  houses  filled,  than  all  spoiled  ; 
they  had  better  bring  vice  as  much  together  as  pos- 
sible, and  compel  it  to  act  under  the  trammels  of  law 
and  order,  and  that  by  devoting  the  great  funds,  that 
arise  from  this  license,  to  the  charity  hospital,  and  oth- 
er benevolent  purposes,  they  compel,  in  the  phrase  of 


310 


the  country,  "the  devil  "  to  pay  tribute  to  virtue.  I 
have  never,  of  course,  seen  the  interior  of  the  "  tem- 
ple of  fortune."  But  I  have  often  heard  it  described. 
Every  thing  that  can  tempt  avarice  or  the  pas- 
sions is  here.  Here  is  the  "roulette,"  the  wheel 
of  fortune,  every  facility  for  gambling,  and  in  all 
quarters  piles  of  dollars,  and  doubloons,  as  nest  cg£s, 
to  make  new  gulls  Jay  to  them.  Here  is  every  thing 
to  tempt  the  eye,  and  inflame  the  blood.  Here  the 
raw  cullies  from  the  upper  country  come,  lose  all, 
and  either  hang  themselves,  or  get  drunk,  and  perish 
in  the  slreets.  A  spacious  block  of  buildings  was 
shown  me,  which  was  said  to  have  been  built  by  a 
gambler  from  the  avails  of  his  success.  One  night 
he  lost  every  thing,  and  the  next  morning  suspended 
himself  from  the  roof  of  an  upper  apartment. 

Much  has  been  said  about  certain  connexions  that 
are  winked  at  with  the  yellow  women  of  this  city.  I 
know  not  whether  this  be  truth  or  idle  gossiping. 
The  yellow  women  are  often  remarkable  for  the  per- 
fect symmetry  of  their  forms,  and  for  their  fine  ex- 
pression of  eye.  They  are  universally  admitted  to 
have  a  fidelity  and  cleverness  as  nurses  for  the  sick, 
beyond  all  other  women.  When  a  stranger  is  brought 
up  by  the  prevailing  fever,  the  first  object  is  to  con- 
sign him  to  the  care  of  one  of  these  tender  and  faithful 
nurses,  and  then  he  has  all  the  chance  for  life,  that  the 
disorder  admits. 

On  the  whole.  I  judge  from  an  observation  at  differ- 
ent times,  of  thirty  weeks,  that  this  city,  as  it  respects 
people  who  have  any  self-estimation,  is  about  on  a  foot- 
ing with  the  other  cities  of  the  Union  in  point  of  morals. 
There  are  many  excellent  people  here,  many  people 
who  mourn  over  the  prevailing  degeneracy.  Among 


311 


the  Protestants,  when  I  was  there,  there  were  many 
unions  for  religious  purposes,  female  religious  societies, 
efforts  making  to  erect  a  mariners5  church,  a  Bethel 
flag  flying,  and  apparently  much  excitement  of  reli- 
gious feeling.  And  nothing  can  be  more  desirable, 
than  that  this  place,  which  is  the  common  centre  of 
the  West,  and  has  such  an  immense  bearing  upon  the 
fashions,  opinions,  and  morals  of  the  inhabitants  of  the 
Mississippi  valley,  should  have  salt  thrown  into  its 
fountains.  Multitudes  of  reflections  on  this  subject 
crowd  upon  me,  which  the  brevity  of  my  plan  excludes 
from  this  work. 

With  regard  to  the  unhealthiness  of  this  city,  it  is 
undoubtedly  estimated  according  to  the  fact.  The 
hearse  is  seen  passing  the  streets  at  all  hours.  During 
the  prevalence  of  the  epidemic,  the  destroying  angel 
carries  in  his  hand  a  besom.  Multitudes  of  the  poor 
Catholic  Irish,  with  their  ruddy  faces,  without  proper 
nursing,  in  crowded  apartments,  poor  strangers  of  all 
nations,  and  the  northern  young  men  in  preference  to 
all  the  rest,  are  swept  away  with  unpitying  fury. 
During  the  sickly  season  of  the  year  in  which  I  arriv- 
ed there,  there  had  been  numbered  more  than  two 
thousand  deaths,  besides  multitudes  of  cases  where 
the  patient  died  unnoticed  and  unrecorded.  I  have 
heard  details  of  misery  and  suffering,  thrilling  tales  of 
whole  families  of  poor,  unable  to  help  themselves,  or 
procure  help,  falling  together,  which  have  chilled  the 
blood  in  the  relation.  The  chance  for  an  unacclimat- 
ed  young  man  from  the  North  surviving  the  first  sum- 
mer, is  by  some  considered  only  as  one  to  two.  Yet 
no  provisions  that  humanity  can  devise,  or  benevolence 
carry  into  effect  to  alleviate  these  evils,  are  left  unat- 
tempted.    But  in  such  sweeping  calamities,  there  must 


V 


necessarily  be  much  misery  which  no  human  exertions 
can  alleviate. 

When  the  river  is  full,  the  common  level  of  the  city 
is  but  a  few  feet  above  that  of  the  river.  Of  course, 
the  graves  that  are  dug  four  feet  deep  will  have  one 
or  two  feet  of  water.  One  of  the  circumstances 
dreadful  to  the  imagination  of  a  sick  stranger,  is  the 
probability  of  being  buried  in  the  water.  To  prevent 
this,  all  that  decease,  whose  estates  are  sufficient,  have 
their  remains  deposited  in  tombs  or  vaults  above  the 
ground.  The  old  Catholic  cemetery  is  completly  cov- 
ered either  with  graves  or  monuments.  The  monu- 
ments are  uniformly  either  of  white  marble,  or  plais- 
ter,  or  painted  white,  and  by  the  brilliant  moonlight 
evenings  of  this  mild  climate,  this  city  of  the  dead,  or 
as  the  more  appropriate  phrase  of  the  Jews  is,  of  the 
living,  makes  an  impressive  appearance.  Here,  in 
these  evenings,  I  have  delighted  to  wander.  Here, 
where  the  hearse  deposites  its  contents  at  every  hour 
of  the  day?  and  sometimes  of  the  night,  I  have  consid- 
ered how  transient,  how  uncertain  is  the  dream  of  life  ; 
how  vain  is  that  of  wealth,  which  brings  so  many  ad- 
venturers from  foreign  climes  to  die  here.  Among  the 
multitudes  of  the  monuments  here,  a  curious,  collec- 
tion of  inscriptions  might  be  made.  The  remembrance 
of  two  only  have  so  far  remained  on  my  memory,  as 
that  I  can  recal  the  substance  of  them.  The  eastern 
external  w  all  of  the  cemetery  is  composed  of  contig- 
uous monuments  in  two  tiers.  On  one  of  the  upper 
tier,  with  a  handsome  slab,  and  with  gilded  letters,  it 
is  recorded  u  II  moruit  victime  d'honneur ; "  meaning 
that  the  person  died  in  a  duel ;  a  circumstance,  which, 
at  the  North,  would  have  been  reserved  only  for  the 
private  instruction  of  friends.     Here  it  is  apparently 


313 


recorded  as  matter  of  eulogy.  The  inscription  on  an- 
other plain  but  respectable  monument  was  to  me  af- 
fecting. It  purports  to  be  erected  as  a  grateful  record 
of  the  long,  faithful,  and  affectionate  services  of  a 
black  slave.  The  whole  inscription  wears  a  delight- 
ful simplicity,  and  honours  the  master  that  erected  it, 
as  much  as  the  slave.  In  the  Protestant  burial- 
grounds  I  was  affected  to  read  great  numbers  of  names 
of  men  who  died  in  the  prime  of  life,  from  Boston, 
Salem,  and  vicinity.  Multitudes  of  the  adventurous 
and  promising  young  men  from  New  England  have 
here  found  rest,  and  it  is  generally  recorded  that  they 
died  "  du  fievre  jaune,"  of  the  yellow  fever,  or  the 
prevailing  epidemic. 

The  communications  from  this  city  with  the  interi- 
or, are  easy,  pleasant,  and  rapid,  by  the  steam-boats. 
More  than  a  hundred  are  now  on  these  waters.  Some 
of  them,  for  size,  accommodation,  and  splendor,  ex- 
ceed any  that  I  have  seen  on  the  Atlantic  waters. 
The  Washington,  Feliciana,  Providence,  Natchez,  and 
various  others,  are  beautiful  and  commodious  boats. 
The  fare  is  sumptuous,  and  passages  are  comparative- 
ly cheap.  I  have  also  uniformly  found  the  passengers 
obliging  and  friendly.  Manners  are  not  so  distant  or 
stately  as  at  the  North  ;  and  it  is  much  easier  to  be- 
come acquainted  with  your  fellow  passengers.  A  trip 
up  the  Mississippi  at  the  proper  season  of  the  year  is 
delightful. 

On  the  whole  this  is  an  interesting  town.  Its  im- 
portance as  a  commercial  capital  is  very  great.  You 
can  no  where  have  more  or  better  opportunities  of 
becoming  acquainted  with  human  nature.  And  a 
stranger  can  find  means  to  render  a  stay  of  a  few 
40 


314 


weeks,  during  the  healthy  season,  as  pleasant  and  as 
instructive  as  in  any  other  town  in  the  United  States. 

The  same  line  of  contiguous  plantations  on  each 
side  of  the  river,  as  we  have  described  above,  is  con- 
tinued for  some  distance  below  the  city.    The  coun- 
try then  becomes  too  low  and  inundated  to  admit  of 
plantations.     At  the  north  part  of  the  city  is  the  ba- 
sin, a  harbour  which  has  been  dug  to  admit  vessels 
from  the  lake.     There  is  a  canal  perfectly  straight, 
which  leads  from  this  basin  to  the  Bayou  St.  John, 
a  sluggish  stream  flowing  from  the  swamps  above 
into  lake  Pontchartrain.     The  canal  is  two  miles  in 
length,  and  the  distance  from  the  mouth  of  the  canal 
to  the  lake  is  four  miles  more.     There  are  some  very 
pleasant  plantations,  gardens,  and  orange  groves,  on 
the  Bayou  St.  John,  and  where  it  enters  the  lake, 
there  are  thirty  or  forty  houses,  occupied  by  fishermen, 
who  draw  great  seines  in  the  lake,  and  supply  the  city 
with  fish.     Near  the  mouth  of  the  Bayou,  is  a  huge 
old  Spanish  fort  of  brick,  with  cannon  of  vast  calibre. 
The  fort  is  so  ruinous,  that  a  discharge  of  one  of  the 
guns  would  probably  shatter  the  walls.    The  making 
of  the  canal,  and  the  clearing  out  of  the  Bayou,  and 
deepening  the  channel  over  the  bar,  at  what  is  called 
u  the  pickets,"  was  a  work  of  great  expense.  The  toll  is 
heavy,  and   is  complained  of  by  the  owners  of  the 
lake  vessels  as  a  great  grievance.  By  this  channel,  the 
city  communicates  with  the  country  on  the  lakes,  with 
the  lower  parts  of  the  state  of  Mississippi,  with  west 
Florida,  and  with  Mobile.    There  are,  I  believe,  near- 
ly thrje  huridrecl  schooners  engaged  in  this  trade,  and  . 
the  commerce  of  New  Orleans,  by  this  channel  alone> 
would  be  sufficient  to  form  a  considerable  city. 


315 


LETTER  XXIV. 

You  are  acquainted  with  the  circumstances  that  in- 
duced me  not  to  return  to  New  England,  as  I  had 
proposed.  I  became  acquainted  with  some  of  the 
•  respectable  citizens  of  New  Orleans,  whose  represen- 
tations concurred  with  these  circumstances,  and  in- 
duced me,  on  the  approaching  summer,  after  my  arri- 
val there,  to  go  over  lake  Pontchartrain,  to  take 
charge  of  a  seminary  there,  and  to  supply,  as  a  min- 
ister, the  two  villages  of  Madisonville  and  Covington. 
It  was  a  dark  and  stormy  March  evening,  when  my 
family  embarked  on  the  lake.  The  lake  is  justly 
dreaded,  as  subject  to  frequent  storms,  having  but  few 
harbours,  and  those  difficult  to  make.  The  waves  are 
short,  and  the  swell  of  that  angry  and  dangerous  char- 
acter, called  a  u  ground  swell,"  owing  to  the  shallow- 
ness of  the  water.  The  lake  is  thirty  miles  wide,  and 
no  where  more  than  twenty  feet  in  depth.  It  has  a 
great  abundance  and  variety  of  fish.  The  approach 
to  it  by  the  Bayou  St.  John,  is  through  a  creeping 
marshy  stream,  as  sluggish  as  the  "  Cocytus  "  and  the 
dead  swamp  around  it,  and  the  blasted  trees,  covered 
with  long  moss,  have  a  most  disheartening  aspect  of 
desolation.  The  borders  of  the  lake  are  so  nearly  on 
a  level  with  its  surface,  that  when  the  lake  is  rough, 
the  surf  breaks  far  into  the  swamp.  When  the  lake  is 
calm,  its  surface  has  an  appearance  altogether  different 
from  any  water  I  ever  saw.  A  covering,  as  of  a  coat- 
ing of  paint  of  various  hues,  overspreads  the  surface. 
This  covering  is  opening,  shifting,  and  changing  its  col- 


316 


ours  under  your  eye,  displaying  the  most  singular  sport 
of  this  kind  that  can  be  imagiued.  When  the  water  is 
drawn  up,  this  coating  disappears,  or  is  only  discern- 
ible in  a  slight  precipitation,  that  seems  subsiding  to 
the  bottom.  I  judge  it  to  be  vegetable  matter,  brought 
in  by  the  Bayou,  by  which  the  lake  communicates 
with  the  Mississippi,  and  like  that  singular  appearance 
on  the  northern  lakes,  called  "  fever  and  ague  blos- 
soms." From  the  centre  of  the  lake,  the  land  is  so 
low  on  all  its  shores,  that  the  air  must  be  very  trans- 
parent to  enable  you  to  discern  land.  As  you  ap- 
proach the  Florida  side,  the  aspect  is,  if  possible,  more 
sombre  and  funereal,  than  on  the  New  Orleans  shore. 
You  are  now  out  of  the  region  of  the  Mississippi  al- 
luvion. You  are  approaching  the  region  of  sterility, 
sand,  and  pine  forests.  The  beach  is  just  above  the 
surface  of  the  lake,  and  is  a  belt  of  sand,  of  almost 
snowy  whiteness.  If  you  have  come  down  the  Mis- 
sissippi, you  may  have  come  two  thousand  miles  with- 
out seeing  a  pine  tree.  Here,  every  thing  is  pine. 
The  green  border  is  rendered  more  dark,  in  contrast 
with  the  whiteness  of  the  beach,  and  the  festoons  of 
crape,  in  the  form  of  long  moss,  that  hang  down  like 
mourning  weeds  from  the  trees. 

You  enter  over  a  bar  with  only  five  feet  water,  a 
broad  placid  stream  called  ChifFuncta,  and  you  sail  up 
this  stream,  still  bounded  by  a  dead  swamp,  two  miles 
to  Madisonville,  a  small  village,  to  which  the  citi- 
zens repair  for  health,  in  the  summer  months,  from 
New  Orleans.  There  is  one  large  hotel,  and  a  num- 
ber of  neat  and  comfortable  houses  for  entertainment, 
which  in  the  sickly  months  are  generally  full.  Some 
cotton  is  shipped  from  this  village,  and  a  number  of 
packet  schooners  ply  between  it  and  New  Orleans. 


317 


The  sailors  employed  in  this  desultory  and  slavish  trade 
are  generally  of  that  class,  that  have  been  sifted  out  of 
all  better  employment,  and  are  the  most  abandoned 
and  blasphemous  of  the  profession.  The  rivers  that 
run  through  these  level  and  swampy  pine  forests,  are 
called,  in  the  Indian  language,  "Bogue,"  with  some 
attribute  denoting  the  character  of  the  stream;  for  in- 
stance, "  Bogue  Chitto,"  "  Bogue  Falaya,"  denoting 
the  river  of  laurels,  or  chincopins.  The  people  are  a 
peculiar  race  of  "  petits  paysans/'  small  planters,  en- 
gaged in  the  lumber  trade,  in  making  tar  and  char- 
coal, or  shepherds  engaged  in  raising  cattle.  The 
wealth  of  a  young  lady  about  to  be  married  is  mea- 
sured by  the  number  of  her  cows,  as  in  the  planting 
part  of  the  state,  it  is  by  her  negroes.  Some  have 
two  thousand  cattle;  and  the  swamps  afford  ample 
winter  range,  while  the  pine  woods  furnish  grass  in 
the  summer. 

There  are  a  number  of  Bogues  that  are  navigable 
by  schooners  for  some  distance  into  the  country.  The 
most  considerable  village  is  Covington,  the  seat  of  jus- 
tice for  the  county  of  St.  Tammany.  You  ascend  the 
Bogue  Falaya,  twenty  miles  by  water,  and  six  by 
land,  from  Madisonville  to  this  village.  It  contains 
about  a  hundred  houses,  employs  a  considerable  num- 
ber of  schooners,  and  as  it  is  the  head  of  navigation 
on  the  river,  ships  very  considerable  quantities  of  cot- 
ton, from  Pearl  River,  Florida,  and  the  lower  part  of 
the  state  of  Mississippi.  Goods  in  return  from  New 
Orleans  are  deposited  here,  to  be  conveyed  to  their 
destination  in  the  country  by  waggons.  There  is  a 
navy -yard  between  Madisonville  and  this  place,  where 
it  was  proposed  to  build  gun-boats.  Much  money 
was  expended  here,  and  the  place  is  now  abandoned. 


318 


There  is  nothing  worthy  of  notice  in  the  village  of 
Covington,  except  that,  contrary  to  the  common  prac- 
tice, they  have  a  burial-ground  substantially  and  hand- 
somely enclosed  ;  and  that,  equally  out  of  the  fashion 
of  the  country,  the  people  were  united  and  punctual 
in  their  attention  to  religious  worship. 

All  that  part  of  Florida  that  I  have  seen,  has  one 
aspect,  and  from  information  I  judge  that  to  be  a  fair 
sample  of  all  the  rest.  It  is  divided  into  savannas,  or 
low  grass  prairies,  pine  woods,  or  inundated  swamps 
on  the  margins  of  the  rivers.  The  soil  is  no  where 
beyond  second  rate,  and,  even  in  the  richest  alluvions, 
pine  trees  make  their  appearance  among  the  laurels, 
beeches,  and  oaks,  that  compose  the  mass  of  the  tim- 
ber on  the  lands  capable  of  cultivation.  The  swamps, 
as  every  where  in  this  country,  are  occupied  by  the 
cypress,  and  loblolly  pine,  and  for  animal  life,  by  alli- 
gators, moccasin  snakes,  and  musquitoes.  Nine  tenths 
of  the  country  are  covered  with  the  long-leaved  pitch 
pine,  which  rises  before  you,  as  you  ride  along,  in 
countless  millions,  as  straight  and  as  uniform  as  a  file 
of  soldiers.  The  country  is  so  level,  and  every  where 
so  exactly  uniform,  that  I  have  never  been  in  a  region 
where  it  was  so  easy  to  get  lost,  and  so  difficult  to  find 
your  way  again.  u  Haud  inexpertus  loquor."  This 
I  have  found  to  my  cost.  Thirty  miles  from  the  sea, 
which  is  every  where  bounded  by  white  sand  beaches, 
the  pine  Jands  become  rolling  and  dry. 

Such  is  the  general  face  of  the  country  in  West 
Florida.  It  possesses  in  its  swamps  a  considerable 
quantity  of  live  oak,  and  masts  and  spars  enough  for 
all  the  navies  in  the  world.  It  is  capable  of  furnish- 
ing inexhaustible  supplies  of  pitch,  tar,  &c.  The  high 
grass,  which  grows  every  where  among  the  pine  trees, 


319 


opens  an  immense  range  for  cattle.  There  are  some 
tolerable  tracts  of  land  along  the  rivers  ;  but  generally 
the  land  is  low,  swampy,  and  extremely  poor.  The 
people,  too,  are  poor  and  indolent,  devoted  to  raising 
cattle,  hunting,  and  drinking  whiskey.  They  are  a 
wild  race,  with  but  little  order  or  morals  among  them  ; 
they  are  generally  denominated  "  Bogues,"  and  call 
themselves  "  rosin  heels/5  The  chief  town  is  Pensa- 
cola,  which  grew  rapidly,  and  received  an  increase  of 
many  inhabitants  and  handsome  houses,  until  the  fatal 
summer  of  1822,  when  it  suffered  so  severely  from 
yellow  fever,  since  which  it  has  declined.  It  has  a 
fine  harbour,  and  the  government  has  made  it  a  na- 
val depot,  which  will  probably  raise  it  once  more. 

We  passed  a  tranquil  and  pleasant  summer  at  Co- 
vington, in  the  discharge  of  duties  so  uniform  in  char- 
acter as  to  furnish  nothing  of  interest  for  relation.  In 
the  autumn  we  crossed  the  lake,  and  returned  to 
New  Orleans.  Ministers  of  different  denominations 
established  a  series  of  weekly  lectures,  in  which  I  took 
an  active  part,  and  they  were  numerously  attended. 
It  became  with  me  a  matter  of  painful  solicitude, 
whether  it  was  the  way  of  duty  and  expediency  to 
settle  at  New  Orleans.  You  are  aware  of  the  views 
which  I  always  entertained  of  city  life.  This,  too, 
was  a  place  of  such  a  character  as  to  require  removal 
from  it  every  summer,  at  least  for  all  that  were  not 
either  reckless  of  life,  or  unable  to  move.  I  had  many 
friends  who  advised  me  to  stay,  and  who  judged  that 
our  acclimation  was  sufficient  to  give  us  confidence  to 
reside  in  the  city  through  the  summer.  During  this 
state  of  suspense,  I  was  requested  to  take  charge  of 
the  seminary  over  which  I  now  preside,  which  had 
become  vacant  by  the  death  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Hull. 


320 


We  finally  concluded  to  accept  the  appointment,  and 
to  move  to  Alexandria  on  Red  River.  We  took  an 
affectionate  leave  of  our  friends,  and  went  on  board 
the  steam-boat  Spartan,  which  we  chartered  for  the 
purpose  of  conveying  our  family  to  their  destination. 
We  lay  in  the  same  place  where  the  year  before  I  had 
seen  depart  the  steam-boat  Tennessee,  and  the  cir- 
cumstance brings  to  my  recollection  the  disastrous  fate 
of  that  boat.  It  was  a  beautiful  morning  when  she 
started.  Her  deck  was  absolutely  crowded  with  pas- 
sengers, not  less,  I  was  told,  than  three  hundred  being 
on  board.  They  cheered  the  multitude,  waved  their 
hats,  fired  their  swivel  repeatedly,  and  went  off  with 
unusual  demonstrations  of  gaiety.  Above  Natchez,  in 
a  dark  and  sleety  night,  and  in  one  of  the  furious  cy- 
press bends  of  the  river,  the  boat  struck  a  snag.  She 
began  to  fill,  and  every  thing  was  consternation  and 
despair.  One  wretch  seized  a  skiff  and  paddled  round 
the  boat  calling  on  a  passenger  to  throw  his  saddle- 
bags into  the  skiff,  informing  with  great  agony,  that 
all  his  money  was  in  them.  He  might  have  saved  a 
dozen  persons,  but  he  kept  so  far  aloof  that  no  one 
could  get  on  board.  We  sometimes  see,  in  the  very 
same  crisis,  that  one  man  will  exhibit  the  dignity  and 
benevolence  of  an  angelic  nature,  and  another  will  dis- 
play the  workings  of  a  nature  almost  infernal.  The 
engineer,  who  was  greatly  beloved,  was  invited  to 
save  himself  in  the  yawl.  His  reply  was  noble ; — 
44  Who  will  work  the  engine,  if  I  quit  ?  I  must  do  my 
duty."  They  tried  in  vain  to  run  her  on  a  bar.  She 
sunk,  and  this  intrepid  man,  worthy  of  a  statue,  was 
drowned  in  the  steam-room.  The  passengers,  men, 
women,  and  children,  separated,  and  in  the  darkness 
were  plunged  in  this  whirling  and  terrible  stream. 


321 


The  shrieks,  the  wailings,  soon  died  away.  I  believe 
it  was  not  ascertained  how  many  perished,  but  it  was 
known  to  exceed  thirty  persons.  The  rest  made  the 
shore  as  they  could. 

We  had  a  very  pleasant,  company  on  board  our  boat, 
and  made  a  quick  and  delightful  trip  to  the  mouth  of 
Red  River.    It  is  five  or  six  miles  above  the  outlet  of 
the  Bayou  Chaffatio,  by  which  Red  River  in  all  prob- 
ability formerly  found  its  own  separate  channel  to  the 
Gulf.    Approaching  nearer  and  nearer  to  the  "  father 
of  waters/'  she  finally  merged  her  bloody  current  in 
his  broad  channel.    The  river  meets  the  Mississippi  at 
right  angles,  and  for  the  first  reach  is  wide,  and 
straight,  and  deep,  like  a  canal.    It  is  on  all  sides  at 
the  point  of  junction  an  inundated  swamp.    You  move 
up  the  same  broad  and  placid  stream,  through  a  dreary 
and  monotonous  forest.     Thirty  or  forty  miles  above 
the  mouth,  you  see  a  very  narrow  channel  strike  ofT  to 
the  left.     Here  the  river  forks  into  Black  River, 
which  has  previously  received  the  Washita.  They 
here  unite  their  waters,  and  flow  in  one  broad  chan- 
nel to  the  Mississippi.    Above  this  junction,  Red  Riv- 
er, though  the  largest  in  Louisiana,  next  to  its  parent 
stream,  seems  no  more  than  a  serpentine  and  very  deep 
canal.    It  winds  to  every  point  of  the  compass.  Its 
waters,  when  full,  are  of  a  deep  red  tinge  ;  and  when 
low,  its  bars  show  shoals  of  alligators,  great  and  small, 
basking  in  the  sun,  or  crossing  the  stream,  as  though 
logs  had  found  the  power  of  locomotion.    Not  very 
far  above  the  forks,  the  river  passes  over  rapids  in  low  \ 
water,  which  are  not  perceived  when  the  river  is  high. 
They  are  "  rapions,"  and  the  passage  in  low  stages  of 
the  water  is  rather  dangerous. 
41 


322 


In  passing  up  you  now  and  then  see  a  solitary 
wood -cutter's  cabin  in  this  lonely  swamp.  But  there 
are  no  settlements  worthy  of  the  name,  until  you  reach 
the  u  Avoyelles,"  where  an  extensive  prairie  comes  up 
to  the  river,  with  a  high  bank  above  the  inundation. 
This  constitutes  a  parish,  of  a  moderately  rich  soil,  in 
which  some  cotton  is  made.  But  the  great  employ- 
ment of  the  people  on  these  pleasant  and  grassy  plains, 
is  the  raising  of  cattle.  The  inhabitants  are  princi- 
pally French,  and  say  that  before  the  Americans  had 
learned  them  how  to  manage  66  un  procts,"  a  lawsuit, 
and  to  love  whiskey,  they  were  a  race  of  grown  up 
infants,  free  from  actual  transgressions,  and  the  very 
Arcadian  race,  about  which  so  much  has  been  said  and 
sung. 

Above  the  Avoyelles  the  banks  of  the  river  begin  to 
rise  above  the  inundation,  and  at  considerable  inter- 
vals you  see  a  cotton  plantation,  and  this  is  the  usual 
aspect  of  the  banks,  until  you  reach  Alexandria. 
This  is  a  pleasant  and  neat  village,  on  the  western 
bank  of  lied  River,  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  miles 
by  the  windings  of  the  river  from  its  mouth,  and  not 
more  than  a  third  of  that  distance  in  a  right  line. 
The  road  to  the  Mississippi  is  passable  only  in  the 
autumn.  In  the  spring  it  is  an  inundated  swamp. 
Alexandria  is  handsomely  situated,  on  a  plain  perfect- 
ly smooth,  and  carpeted  with  the  richest  verdure. 
The  white  houses  show  themselves  with  their  piazzas 
from  under  the  shade  of  the  beautiful  China  trees, 
and  Catalpas.  The  forest,  beyond  the  village,  and 
beyond  the  cultivation,  deep  and  magnificent,  com- 
posed of  trees  of  vast  size,  and  covered  with  the  usual 
drapery  of  long  moss,  and  the  ground  under  them,  is 
bright  with  the  verdure  of  the  palmetto.     But  the 


323 

land,  as  is  common  on  all  these  waters,  soon  descends 
to  the  cypress  swamp,  the  everlasting  abode  of  alliga- 
tors, snakes,  and  noxious  animals.  The  swamp  is  here 
from  fifteen  to  twenty  miles  in  depth.  On  the  oppo- 
site shore,  pine  bluffs  come  into  the  river.  Just  above 
this  village  there  is  a  rapid,  composed  of  soft  rock, 
apparently  in  a  state  of  formation  from  clay.  The 
pitch,  at  low  water,  may  be  ten  feet,  and  over  this  pitch 
pours  the  volume  of  waters,  collected  from  mountains 
two  thousand  miles  above.  It  is  a  romantic  view,  and 
the  incessant  roar  in  the  village  resembles  in  the  ear 
the  distant  roar  of  a  sea  beach,  and  lulls  you  pleasant- 
ly to  sleep. 

This  rapid  is  a  great  impediment  to  the  navigation 
of  the  river.  Steam  boats  cannot  surmount  it-more 
than  two  thirds  of  the  year.  Other  boats  ascend  it 
with  difficulty,  in  low  stages.  The  state  legislature 
has  appropriated  a  very  considerable  sum,  for  the  re- 
moval of  this  obstruction,  but  the  work  has  not  yet 
commenced. 

The  village  of  Alexandria  is  an  important  depot  of 
cotton,  issues  a  weekly  paper,  has  a  number  of  res- 
pectable lawyers  and  physicians,  and  many  very 
respectable  citizens.  It  is  a  place  of  recent  growth, 
and  yet  three  Presbyterian  ministers  have  already  laid 
their  ashes  here.  There  are  two  banks  and  a  hand- 
some court  house  here,  and  it  is  the  seat  of  justice  of 
the  parish  of  Rapide,  perhaps  as  rich  a  cotton  raising 
parish,  as  there  is  in  the  state.  The  college,  as  it  is 
termed,  over  which  I  preside,  is  a  huge  and  tolerably 
commodious,  but  rather  ugly  building,  upon  which 
great  sums  of  money  have  been  expended,  and  to 
which  eight  hundred  dollars,  besides  the  proceeds  of 
tuition,  are  annually  appropriated.     Literature  is  at  a 


324 

very  low  ebb.  I  have  made  assiduous  efforts  to  ex- 
cite a  feeling  of  regard  to  it.  But  the  people  forti- 
fy themselves  against  it,  in  the  persuasion  that  an  edu- 
cation can  be  acquired  only  at  the  North. 

The  legislature  has  made  as  munificent  appropria- 
tions for  the  advancement  of  literature,  according  to 
her  population,  as  any  other  state  in  the  Union.  Eight 
hundred  dollars  are  annually  appropriated  to  every 
parish  in  the  state  for  the  support  of  schools.  Put 
the  act  is  so  darkly  worded,  and  the  modes  of  appro- 
priation so  indistinctly  defined,  that  this  noble  provis- 
ion has  been  hitherto  not  only  inefficient,  but  has  ex- 
cited altercation  and  dispute.  To  which  schools  in 
the  parish  it  shall  be  appropriated,  and  in  what  pro- 
portions, are  knotty  points  to  settle.  In  some  it 
lies  in  the  treasury  :  in  others,  it  is  said,  it  has  been 
reserved  to  make  up  a  purse  for  a  horse-race. 

Ail  the  appropriations  of  this  state  are  respectable, 
and  indicate  the  views  of  a  high-minded  people.  The 
salaries  are  more  ample,  than  even  those  of  New 
York.  Nothing  has  been  spared  in  attempting  to 
make  something  of  the  New  Orleans  college.  They 
are  making  great  efforts  to  establish  a  college  at  Jack- 
son. But  as  yet  the  people  seem  to  feel  as  though 
there  were  only  three  matters  very  important,  to  wit, 
cotton,  eugar,  and  dollars. 

Just  below  the  rapids,  which  I  have  mentioned, 
comes  in  the  Bayou  Rapide,  on  the  banks  of  which 
are  continued  ranges  of  cotton  plantations  for  twenty- 
five  miles5  and  on  this  Bayou,  and  that  of  Bayou  Bceuf, 
are  as  productive  cotton  farms,  as  any  in  the  state. 
The  soil  is  of  a  red  tinge,  not  unlike  Spanish  brown, 
and  of  an  exhaustless  fertility.  The  weeds  grow  up 
to  die  size  of  considerable  shrubs.     The  land  is  level, 


325 


and  has  a  pleasant  aspect  of  softness  and  fertility,  that 
renders  the  view  of  a  cotton  plantation,  of  itself  a 
beautiful  object,  when  in  full  flower,  a  landscape 
rich  almost  to  gaudiness. 

The  cotton  is  an  annual  plant,  with  leaves  not  un~ 
like  those  of  the  hollyhock.  It  branches  considerably, 
grows  on  the  rich  lands,  as  high  as  a  man's  head,  and 
bears  a  beautiful  yellowish-white  flower.  The  rows 
are  made  perfectly  straight,  and  six  feet  apart,  and 
kept  entirely  clean  of  weeds.  In  September  the  balls 
begin  to  open,  picking  commences,  and  is  continued, 
until  the  stocks  are  ready  to  be  pulled  up,  burned  off, 
and  the  plowing  to  commence  anew. 

Sugar-cane,  the  next  important  article  of  culture  in 
this  state,  is  extending  in  cultivation  every  year. 
There  have  long  been  noble  plantations  along  the  coast. 
They  are  now  extended  to  the  Teche,  a  very  impor- 
tant Bayou,  which  breaks  out  of  the  Mississippi,  and 
runs  through  the  fine  and  fertile  parish  of  Attakapas. 
They  are  also  making  sugar  plantations  along  the 
gulf,  and  in  some  of  the  islands  near  the  shore.  Suffi- 
cient sugar  might  be  made  here  for  the  consumption 
of  the  United  States.  The  plantations  have  been  pro- 
ductive for  a  number  of  years  in  succession.  The  on- 
ly impediment  to  extending  this  species  of  cultivation  is 
the  great  capital  that  it  requires  to  commence  the 
business  profitably.  A  sugar  establishment  is  neces- 
sarily a  very  expensive  one.  The  sugar  houses  on  the 
coast  resemble  our  large  cotton  factory  buildings  at 
the  North.  The  process  of  manufacturing  the  sugar, 
though  expensive,  is  simple.  The  cane  is  planted  the 
latter  part  of  the  autumn  in  slips,  and  when  in  full 
growth  is  not  unlike  a  field  of  maize  in  appearance. 
The  stalk  is  about  the  size  of  that  of  southern  corn, 


326 


and  the  juice,  though  deemed  a  luxury  here,  has  to 
me  rather  an  u pleasant  sweetness. 

Rice  and  indigo  were  formerly  cultivated  here  to  a 
greater  extent  than  at  present.  The  rice  of  this  coun- 
try has  a  whiteness  and  fairness,  that  render  it  more 
valuable  than  that  of  Georgia,  and  the  indigo,  that 
was  formerly  made  on  Red  River,  is  said  to  have  been 
not  much  inferior  to  Spanish  float.  Corn,  sweet  po- 
tatoes, melons,  and  all  northern  fruits,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  apples,  flourish  here  ;  though  the  planters  find 
the  great  staples,  cotton  and  sugar,  so  much  more  profi- 
table than  any  other  kinds  of  cultivation,  that  many 
of  them  calculate  to  supply  themselves  with  provisions^ 
almost  entirely  from  the  upper  country.  Figs  are 
raised  here  in  great  abundance  and  perfection.  The 
figtree  grows  luxuriantly,  and  is  raised  with  ease. 
Oranges,  when  I  descended  the  Mississippi  for  the 
first  time,  were  lying  under  the  trees  as  abundantly 
as  the  apples  fall  in  the  North  country.  The  bitter 
orange,  of  which  the  French  are  fond,  was  far  more 
abundant  than  the  sweet ;  but  that  was  abundant,  and  a 
sufficient  quantity  raised,  and  of  a  very  fine  quality,  for 
the  supply  of  all  the  Western  states.  The  winter  of 
1823,  the  coldest  that  had  been  known  in  this  coun- 
try for  twenty  years,  killed  the  trees  generally,  with  a 
few  exceptions.  New  suckers  have  sprouted  up,  and 
in  a  few  years,  the  orange  groves  will  have  found  re- 
juvenescence, and  wiil  probably  furnish  an  ample  sup- 
ply again.  Nothing  can  have  a  grander,  and  more 
rich  appearance,  than  these  delicious  orange  groves, 
either  when  their  blossoms  yield  their  ambrosial  per- 
fume, or  when  their  golden  fruit,  shows  itself  from 
the  beautiful  evergreen  foliage.  The  noble  and  spread- 
ing live  oaks,   too,  make  a  delightful  appearance 


327 


ab°u*  the  magnificent  houses  on  the  coast.  No  orna- 
mental tree  equals  in  beauty  the  China  tree,  except, 
perhaps  the  catalpa.  Both  are  conspicuous  for  their 
splendid  tufts  of  flowers.  The  magnolia  grandiflora 
is  a  fine  tree,  but  has  been  vaunted,  and  especially  its 
flowers,  too  much.  Its  flowers  are  large,  the  fragrance 
rather  sickening,  and  a  tree  seldom  puts  forth  many  at 
a  time,  but  brings  them  along  in  succession  for  a  long 
time.  The  flowers  of  some  of  the  other  species,  of 
laurels,  are  more  delicate  and  have  a  finer  fragrance. 
The  wild  honey-suckle,  or  meadowT-pink,  is  a  most 
delightful  flowering  shrub,  fringing  the  banks  in  spring 
with  brilliant  peach-blow  blossoms,  whose  appearance 
and  fragrance  are  altogether  delightful.  The  cultivat- 
ed cape  jessamine  hag  an  unrivalled  fragrance.  The 
yellow  wild  jessamine  is  a  beautiful  flower,  and  in 
March,  when  nature  is  in  blossom,  the  wild  wood  here 
displays  such  a  variety  of  flowers  of  every  scent  and 
hue,  that  the  gale  is  charged  with  fragrance,  as  if 
from  "  Araby  the  blest."  Millions  of  splendid  flow- 
ers waste  their  sweetness  on  the  desert  air. 

Were  I  to  go  into  any  statistical  details,  my  plan 
would  be  frustrated,  by  extending  these  remarks  be- 
yond their  intended  brevity.  The  soil,  that  is  cultivat- 
ed in  these  regions,  is  exuberantly  rich.  In  no  other 
place  does  the  planter  accumulate  so  fast  from  mere 
agriculture.  Louisiana  undoubtedly  exports  more 
value  according  to  the  extent  of  land  cultivated,  than 
any  other  country.  The  cotton  plantations  yield  from 
ten  to  fifty  thousand  dollars  a  year,  and  many  sugar 
planters,  probably,  derive  twice  that  sum  from  their 
annual  crop.  It  is  a  question,  which  is  the  better  kind 
of  cultivation,  cotton  or  sugar.  Each  has  its  parti- 
sans.   "  Lis  est  sub  judice." 


328 


Of  wild  fruits,  there  are  the  pawpaw,  the  persimon* 
the  Chickasaw  plum,  and  the  pine  woods  grape, 
This  grape  ripens  in  June,  is  cone-shaped,  transpa- 
rent, and  delicious.  It  would  probably  be  an  admira- 
ble grape  to  cultivate.  There  are  also  varieties  of 
autumnal  grapes,  and  wonderful  accounts  are  given  of 
the  immense  quantities  of  grapes  that  ripen  on  the 
sand  plains  at  the  sources  of  Red  River.  The  hun- 
ters assert,  that  they  are  richer  than  any  cultivated 
grape. 


LETTER  XXIV. 

Very  mistaken  ideas  seem  to  have  been  entertained 
respecting  this  state,  as  though  it  were  in  a  great 
measure  composed  of  alluvion  and  swamp.  It  is  true 
it  has  more  alluvion  and  swamp,  in  proportion,  than 
any  other  state,  and  of  the  alluvion,  an  uncommon 
proportion  is  swamp.  I  should  suppose  that  two 
thirds  of  the  state  was  covered  with  pine  woods,  of 
the  same  character  as  those  in  Florida.  These 
woods  have  their  millions  of  pine  trees,  and  the  soil 
is  covered  with  grass.  They  are  finely  undulated 
with  hill  and  dale,  and  in  the  valleys  burst  out  innu- 
merable springs.  The  streams  that  water  them  have 
clear,  transparent  water,  that  runs  over  a  white  sand, 
and  are  alive  with  trout  and  other  fish.  The  soil  is 
comparatively  poor.  The  bottoms  are  only  second 
rate  land.  They  will  bring  three  or  four  crops  of 
corn  without  manure,  and  are  admirable  for  the  sweet 
potatoe.    The  people  who  live  in  the  pine  woods  geii- 


329 


erally  support  themselves  by  raising  cattle,  which  they 
number  by  hundreds.  The  planters  in  Atiakapas  and 
Opelousas  have,  in  some  instances,  four  or  five  thou- 
sand cattle.  Nothing  can  be  easier  than  subsistence 
in  the  pine  woods.  There  being  little  call  for  labour, 
the  inhabitants  labour  little,  and  are  content  with  in- 
dolence, health,  and  poverty.  For  it  may  be  observ- 
ed, that,  in  general,  the  pine  woods  are  healthy.  All 
families  that  can  afford  ic  move  from  the  alluvions  on 
the  rivers  and  Bayous,  where  their  plantations  lie,  in- 
to the  pine  woods,  during  the  summer.  Here  they 
breathe  a  pure  air,  impregnated  by  the  terebinthine 
odour  of  the  evergreens.  A  slight  breeze  always 
sighs  in  the  elevated  tops  of  the  pines,  and  the  fleck- 
ered mixture  of  light  and  shade  creates  a  pleasant 
appearance  and  a  delightful  freshness  of  air.  Through- 
out this  country,  the  region  of  plantations  is  the  re- 
gion of  wealth  and  sickness,  and  of  the  pine  woods, 
of  health  and  poverty.  The  inhabitants  of  New  Orleans 
retire  in  the  summer,  either  to  the  North  or  into  the 
pine  woods.  The  pine  woods,  in  the  ear  of  a  Loui- 
sianian,  is  a  synonyme  with  health. 

Next  in  order  to.  the  pine  woods,  are  the  prairies, 
of  which  there  is  a  vast  extent,  scattered  over  all  the 
region  west  of  the  Mississippi.  The  parishes  of  At- 
takapas  and  Opelousas  are  principally  prairie  regions. 
The  former  has  many  sugar  and  cotton  plantations, 
but  is  principally  devoted  to  raising  cattle.  The  prai- 
ries differ  little  in  appearance  and  character  from  those 
in  the  upper  country. 

One  circumstance  in  the  history  of  the  alluvions 
strikes  you  as  a  wonderful  singularity.    All  the  rivers 
and  Bayous  of  this  country,  when  full,  run  upon  ele- 
vated plains  higher  than  the  subjacent  country.  This 
*  42 


330 


circumstance  probably  results  from  the  deposition  of 
the  alluvial  matter,  carried  along  by  the  waters.  The 
sand,  the  coarser  and  heavier  particles,  subside  first,  and 
near  the  banks.  The  finer  particles  remain  suspended 
longer  and  are  deposited  farther  from  the  shores  of  the 
rivers.  We  find  in  fact,  that  the  soil  on  the  banks  is 
loamy  and  more  coarse,  and  as  you  recede  farther,  the 
clay  becomes  finer  and  stiffer.  It  results  from  this  cir- 
cumstance, that  almost  all  the  cultivation  of  the  coun- 
try is  in  narrow  and  contiguous  strips  along  the  mar- 
gin of  the  streams.  The  extent  of  cultivable  land 
varies  from  one  to  three  miles  in  depth  from  the  banks 
of  the  river  or  Bayou.  Beyond  this  are  the  cypress 
swamps.  You  ascend  a  river  or  Bayou,  and  you  pass 
by  all  the  plantations  that  belong  to  that  region. 

I  have  not  inquired,  as  I  ought,  the  derivation  of 
the  term  "  Bayou"  but  it  is  understood  here  to  mean 
an  alluvial  stream  with  but  little  current,  and  some- 
times running  from  the  main  river,  and  connected  with 
it  again,  as  a  lateral  canal.  It  seems  generally  to  im- 
port a  sluggish  alluvial  stream.  In  these  vast  alluvi- 
ons, there  are  innumerable  Bayous.  Some,  as  I  have 
remarked,  burst  from  the  Mississippi.  One  leads 
from  that  river  to  lake  Maurepas,  and  through  that 
to  lake  Pontehar  train.  The  Chaffatio,  the  Plaque- 
mine,  and  the  Teche,  are  the  principal  Bayous,  that 
burst  out  from  the  west  side  of  the  river. 

Red  River  is,  after  the  Mississippi,  the  most  consid- 
erable stream  of  Louisiana.  Its  sources  have  not 
been  fully  explored.  But  it  is  traced  for  a  length  of 
twenty-five  hundred  miles.  It  rises  probably  in  the 
same  range  of  mountains  with  the  Arkansas,  and  is 
much  of  the  same  length  and  size,  though  not  so  wide. 
But  it  makes  up  for  this  in  greater  depth.    In  its  col- 


331 


our,  in  the  character  of  its  alluvion,  in  the  saltness 
of  its  brackish  and  unpotable  waters,  it  is  the  twin 
brother  of  the  Arkansas.  It  runs  through  the  same 
kind  of  country  and  has,  like  that  river,  its  numberless 
lakes  and  lateral  Bayous,  Unlike  that  stream,  it  of- 
ten divides  itself  into  numerous  branches,  which  re- 
unite. This  takes  place  between  Alexandria  and 
Natchitoches.  Like  the  former  river,  it  first  runs 
through  an  immense  extent  of  sand  prairies,  and  then 
through  a  low  and  timbered  region. 

It  has  one  striking  peculiarity  about  a  hundred  miles 
above  Natchitoches — the  great  raft.  Here  the  river 
runs  through  a  vast  swamp.  The  river  divides  into  in- 
numerable channels.  These  channels  are  closed  up, 
by  logs,  carried  along  by  the  current  and  jammed  to- 
gether. This  takes  place  for  a  length  of  eighty  miles. 
This  is  a  great  impediment  to  navigation.  Steam- 
boats may  ascend  at  certain  seasons,  when  the  wa- 
ter is  high,  but  with  great  difficulty.  Keel  boats  make 
their  way  through  it  with  severe  labour  of  cutting 
away  logs,  and  mistaking  their  channel,  and  if  they 
succeed  in  making  their  way,  are  occupied  four  times 
as  long  as  would  be  requisite  to  ascend  a  clear  river. 
Above  the  raft,  the  river  becomes  a  broad,  deep,  at  d 
placid  stream.  About  eight  hundred  miles  above 
this  raft,  the  United  States  have  a  garrison,  two  com- 
panies of  soldiers,  and  convenient  barracks.  What  a 
magnificent  idea  of  the  extent  of  our  country  !  Natch- 
itoches is  considered,  at  the  North,  as  terra  incognita. 
Nine  hundred  miles  above,  on  the  Kiamesia,  the  Uni- 
ted States  have  a  garrison. 

On  an  island  in  the  midst  of  this  swamp,  a  boatman 
was  left  by  mistake,  and  subsisted  nine  days  on  noth- 
ing but  one  squirrel,  and  the  bark  of  trees.  Ho 


332 


relates,  that  he  cut  up  a  handkerchief  for  a  line,  and 
made  a  hook  of  a  nail,  which  he  had  about  him ;  with 
this  fishing  tackle,  he  took  a  fine  cat-fish.    He  carried 
it  a  little  distance  from  the  bank,  and  was  cleaning  it 
to  roast,  for  he  had  fire.    As  he  went  to  the  river,  an 
alligator  started  from  the  mud,  and  made  for  the  fish. 
In  his  extreme  weakness,  the  alligator  arrived  first, 
seized  the  fish,  and  swallowed  it  in  a  trice.    He  re- 
lates, that  in  despair,  he  then  laid  himself  down  to  die, 
and  slept  for  a  great  length  of  time.    When  he  awoke, 
the  love  of  life  returned  upon  him.    He  remembered 
to  have  seen  a  canoe,  that  had  a  hole  in  the  bottom, 
which  had  been  thrown  by  the  stream  upon  the  wreck 
of  logs.     The  little  labour  requisite  to  roll  it  into  the 
stream,  caused  him  to  faint  repeatedly.    But  he  final- 
ly achieved  the  task,  stopped  the  hole  with  moss  and 
his  handkerchief,  daubed  it  with  mud,  and  committed 
himself  to  the  stream.    Providentially,  the  boat  took 
the  right  channel.    This  canoe  struck  a  log,  and  turn- 
ed over.     But  he  was  enabled  to  hang  to  it,  until  he 
floated  down  to  a  French  house.    The  Frenchman 
was  milking  his  cows  at  night.     The  man  was  a  liv- 
ing skeleton.    He  grasped  the  pail  of  milk  from  the 
Frenchman's  hands,  and  had  he  not  been  prevented, 
would  have  drunk  his  death.     When  he  arrived  at 
Natchitoches,  the  people  describe  him  as  a  perfect 
Captain  Riley,  from  the  Arabian  deserts.     It  is  won- 
derful how  much  human  nature  can  endure,  before 
the  thread  of  life  is  broken. 

Washita  is  the  next  river  in  point  of  size  to  Red 
River.  It  rises  in  the  mountainous  country  between 
the  Arkansas  and  Red  River,  receives  a  number  of 
tributaries,  runs  by  the  celebrated  warm  springs  in 
the  territory  of  Arkansas,  passes  through  the  parish  of 


sss 

Washita  and  Catahoola,  in  Louisiana,  and  mingles  with 
Red  River,  as  I  have  observed,  not  a  great  way  from 
the  Mississippi.  The  parish  of  Washita  is  fertile  in 
cotton,  and  has  many  wealthy  planters.  The  river  is 
broad  and  deep,  and  furnishes  good  steam-boat  navi- 
gation to  the  Mississippi.  Its  comparative  course  may 
be  about  nine  hundred  miles. 

The  Sabine  is  a  considerable  stream  which  rises  in 
the  high  prairies  northwest  of  Louisiana,  runs  three 
or  four  hundred  miles,  dividing  that  state  from  the 
Spanish  country,  and  two  hundred  miles  below,  where 
the  great  road  from  Natchitoches  to  Mexico  crosses  it, 
the  river  falls  into  the  Gulf  of  Mexico.  I  conversed 
with  two  very  respectable  officers  of  Cantonment.  Jes- 
sup,  who  had  descended  the  river  from  the  crossing  to 
the  Gulf.  They  describe  it  as  a  deep  stream,  and  ca- 
pable, when  the  logs  and  impediments  in  the  way- 
should  be  removed,  of  steam-boat  navigation  from 
that  point  to  the  Gulf.  There  are  many  smaller  riv- 
ers in  this  state,  which  the  brevity  of  my  plan  forbids 
me  to  notice. 

This  state  being  almost  uniformly  level,  and  extend- 
ing from  30°  to  33°,  has  a  climate  which  might  be  nat- 
urally inferred  from  its  position.  The  summer  is  tem- 
perate, the  thermometer  seldom  indicating  so  much 
heat  as  there  often  is  at  the  same  time  at  the  North. 
But  the  heat  is  uniform  and  unremitting,  and  this  is 
what  renders  the  summer  oppressive.  The  days  are 
seldom  fanned  by  the  northwestern  breeze.  The  au- 
tumn becomes  cool,  almost  as  early  as  at  the  North. 
It  is  dry,  and  the  atmosphere  of  that  mild  and  delight- 
ful blue,  peculiar  to  a  southern  sky.  This  season,  so 
delightful  elsewhere,  is  here  continued  three  months. 
The  leaves  are  long  in  acquiring  their  mingled  hues, 


334 


of  red,  yellow,  and  purple.  Frost  sometimes  occurs  in 
November,  but  not  often  before  December.  Then  the 
leaves  yield  to  the  wind,  and  drop  into  the  pool,  and 
we  have  that  season,  that  invites  to  "solemn  thought, 
and  heavenly  musing."  January  is  chilly,  with  frosty 
nights,  but  never  sufficiently  severe  to  freeze  tender 
vegetables  in  the  house.  A  few  flakes  of  snow  some- 
times fall,  though  I  have  seen  none  during  my  resi- 
dence in  the  country.  Even  in  this  month  there  are 
delightful  days,  when  we  sit  with  comfort  at  the  open 
window.  The  daffodil  and  multiflora  rose  are  in  full 
blossom  through  the  winter.  The  turnip  patches  are 
yellow7  with  flowers,  and  the  clover  has  a  vigorous 
growth,  and  a  delightful  green.  I  have  eaten  green 
peas  in  January,  and  many  garden  vegetables  are 
brought  to  the  market.  In  February  the  rainy  season 
commences,  and  spring  begins  to  return.  The  night 
brings  thunder  clouds  and  copious  rain,  often  with 
loud  thunder.  In  March,  the  spring  is  in  her  gayest 
attire.  Planting  commences  with  the  first  of  the 
month,  and  continues  until  July.  In  the  first  of  the 
summer,  there  are  thunder  showers,  attended  with 
vivid  lightning,  and  terrible  peals  of  thunder. 

The  latter  part  of  the  summer  is  generally  dry. 
The  diseases,  except  the  New  Orleans  epidemic,  differ 
little  from  those  of  the  upper  country.  The  bowel 
complaint  is  more  common  and  fatal.  The  bilious 
disorders  commence  earlier  in  the  season,  and  run 
more  rapidly  to  their  crisis. 

The  races  of  people  here  are  as  numerous  as  in 
any  other  part  of  the  western  country.  Of  the  In- 
dians I  have  spoken.  The  French  and  the  Americans 
are  nearly  in  equal  proportions.  In  the  country  they 
live  in  great  harmony.     Unfortunately  in  New  Or- 


335 

leans  a  great  deal  of  party  feeling  exists  between 
them.  This  spirit  infuses  itself  into  their  municipal 
regulations,  and  their  elections.  It  has  threatened  re- 
cently to  disturb  the  peace  of  the  city.  There  are,  on 
the  coast,  many  descendants  of  the  Germans,  who 
were  removed  from  what  the  French  called  Acadia,  or 
Nova  Scotia.  There  are  many  poor  Catholic  Irish  in 
New  Orleans.  There  remain  in  some  places  Spanish 
families.  In  general  all  these  different  races  live  to- 
gether in  great  harmony. 

The  opulent  planters  of  this  state  have  many  amia- 
ble traits  of  character.  They  are  high-minded  and 
hospitable,  in  an  eminent  degree.  I  have  sojourned 
much  among  them,  and  have  never  experienced  a 
more  frank,  dignified,  and  easy  hospitality.  It  is  ta- 
ken for  granted,  that  the  guest  is  a  gentleman,  and 
that  he  will  not  make  an  improper  use  of  the  great 
latitude,  that  is  allowed  him.  If  he  do  not  pass  over 
the  limits,  which  just  observance  prescribes,  the  more 
liberties  he  takes,  and  the  more  at  ease  he  feels  with- 
in those  limits,  the  more  satisfaction  he  will  give  to 
his  host.  You  enter  without  ceremony,  call  for  what 
you  wish,  and  intimate  your  wishes  to  the  servants. 
In  short  you  are  made  to  feel  yourself  at  home.  This 
simple  and  noble  hospitality  seems  to  be  a  general 
trait  among  these  planters,  for  I  have  not  yet  called  at 
a  single  house,  where  it  has  not  been  exercised  to- 
wards me.  Suppose  the  traveller  to  be  a  gentleman, 
to  speak  French,  and  to  have  letters  to  one  respectable 
planter,  it  becomes  an  introduction  to  the  settlement, 
and  he  will  have  no  occasion  for  a  tavern. 

It  results  in  some  way  from  their  condition,  from 
their  ample  income,  or  perhaps  as  they  would  say, 
from  the  influence  of  slavery,  that  they  are  liberal  in 


336 


their  feelings,  as  it  respects  expenditure,  and  are  more 
reckless  of  the  value  of  money,  than  any  people  that 
I  have  seen.  The  ladies  no  doubt  have  their  tea-ta- 
ble, or  rather  their  coffee-table  scandal.  But  I  con- 
fess, that  I  have  seen  less  of  that  prying  curiosity  to 
look  into  the  affairs  of  neighbours,  and  have  heard  less 
scandal  here,  than  in  other  parts  of  the  United  States. 

The  luxury  of  the  table  is  carried  to  a  great  ex- 
tent among  them.  They  are  ample  in  their  supply  of 
wines,  though  Claret  is  generally  drunk.  Every  fam- 
ily is  provided  with  Claret,  as  we  at  the  North  are 
with  cider.  I  have  scarcely  seen  an  instance  of  in- 
toxication among  the  respectable  planters.  In  drink- 
ing, the  guests  universally  raise  their  glasses,  and 
touch  them  together  instead  of  a  health.  In  the  mor- 
ning, before  you  rise,  a  cup  of  strong  coffee  is  offered 
you.  After  the  dessert  at  dinner,  you  are  offered 
another.  It  is  but  very  recently,  that  the  ladies  have 
begun  to  drink  tea.  During  the  warm  months  be- 
fore you  retire,  it  is  the  custom  in  many  places 
for  a  black  girl  to  take  off  your  stockings,  and  per- 
form the  ancient  ceremonial  of  washing  the  feet. 

They  are  easy  and  amiable  in  their  intercourse  with 
one  another,  and  excessively  attached  to  balls  and  par- 
ties. They  certainly  live  more  in  sensation,  than  in 
reflection.  The  past  and  the  future  are  seasons,  with 
which  they  seem  little  concerned.  The  present  is 
their  day,  and  ft  dum  vivimus,  vivamus,"  in  other 
w  ords,  "  a  short  life  and  a  merry  one,"  their  motto. 
Their  feelings  are  easily  excited.  Tears  flow.  The 
excitement  passes  away,  and  another  train  of  sensa- 
tions is  started.  In  the  pulpit  they  expect  an  ar- 
dour, an  appeal  to  the  feelings,  which  the  calmer  and 
more  reflecting  manner  of  the  North  would  hardly 
tolerate. 


337 


An  intelligent  and  instructed  planter's  family  is  cer- 
tainly a  delightful  family  in  which  to  make  a  short  so- 
journ, and  they  have  many  of  the  lesser  virtues  exer- 
cised in  a  way  so  peculiar,  and  appropriate  to  their 
modes  of  existence,  as  to  impress  you  with  all  the 
freshness  of  novelty.  Unhappily,  as  appertains  to  all 
earthly  things,  there  is  a  dark  ground  to  the  picture. 
The  men  are  "  sudden  and  quick  in  quarrel."  The 
dirk  or  the  pistol  is  always  at  hand.  Fatal  duels 
frequently  occur.  They  are  profane,  and  excessively 
addicted  to  gambling.  This  horrible  vice,  so  intimate- 
ly associated  with  so  many  others,  prevails  like  an 
epidemic.  Money  gotten  easily,  and  without  labour, 
is  easily  lost.  Betting  and  horse-racing  are  amuse- 
ments eagerly  pursued,  and  often  times  to  the  ruin  of 
the  parties.  A  Louisianian  will  forego  any  pleasure, 
to  witness  and  bet  at  a  horse-race.  Even  the  ladies 
visit  these  amusements,  and  bet  wTith  the  gentlemen. 

It  is  true  that  there  are  opulent  French  planters,  rear- 
ed in  the  simplicity  of  the  early  periods  of  Louisiana, 
who  can  neither  read  nor  write.  1  have  visited  more 
than  one  such.  But  it  is  also  true,  that  the  improv- 
ing spirit  of  the  age,  the  rapid  communication  by 
steam-boats,  which  brings  all  the  luxuries,  comforts, 
and  instructions  of  society  immediately  to  their  doors, 
is  diffusing  among  the  planters  a  thirst  for  information, 
an  earnest  desire  that  their  children  should  have  all 
the  advantages  of  the  improved  modes  of  present  in- 
struction. They  have,  in  many  instances,  fine  collec- 
tions of  books.  A  piano  is  seen  in  every  good  house. 
Their  ear,  taste,  and  voice,  and  their  excitability  of 
character,  fit  the  ladies  for  excellence  in  music.  In 
common  with  those  in  other  parts  of  the  Union,  great 
and  too  much  stress  is  laid  upon  accomplishments 
43 


333 


merely  external,  and  there  is  not  attached  sufficient 
importance  to  that  pa rt  of  education  which  fits  for 
rational  conversation  and  usefulness.  It  is  asserted 
here,  even  to  a  proverb,  and  so  far  as  my  observation 
extends,  with  great  truth,  that  the  Creole  ladies  are, 
after  marriage,  extremely  domestic,  quiet,  affectionate, 
and  exemplary  wives  and  mothers. 

It  is  a  well  known  fact,  that  the  human  form  devel- 
opes  more  early  in  the  South  than  in  the  North.  It  is 
equally  true,  that  the  apprehension  is  quicker,  the  imi- 
tative arts  more  easily  acquired,  and  the  faculties  un- 
fold earlier.  Children  born  at  the  North  have  firmer, 
and  more  staid  habits,  attain  greater  combination  of 
thought,  and  think  more  profoundly.  But  the  Creole 
learns  more  easily  to  write  a  fair  hand,  to  sketch  a 
drawing,  or  copy  a  rose.  Marriages  take  place  when 
the  parties  are  very  young,  and  mothers  of  fifteen  are 
not  uncommon.  The  pernicious  habit  of  novel-read- 
ing, which  is  an  appetite  at  the  North,  has  here  an  in- 
satiable craving. 

An  improving  taste  for  literature  has  had,  I  am  in- 
formed, a  very  obvious  influence  not  only  on  the  moral 
habits  of  the  planters,  but  has  introduced  more  liberal 
pleasures,  and  a  better  way  of  spending  the  time,  that 
used  to  hang  on  their  hands.  Much  of  that  time  is 
now  spent  in  reading.  The  fruit  of  thus  passing 
their  time,  has  had  a  happy  influence  upon  the  condi- 
tion of  a  numerous  class  of  people,  of  whom  I  pro- 
pose shortly  to  speak — the  slaves.  Among  their  an- 
cient amusements,  which  are  still  unchanged,  is  hunt- 
ing. Their  wide  forests,  their  impenetrable  swamps, 
their  tangled  cane  brakes,  will  harbour,  for  generations 
to  come,  bears,  deer,  panthers,  and  a  great  variety  of 
game.     They  keep  fine  horses,  and  have  their  trained 


339 


packs  of  hounds.  The  planter  leads  you  to  his  ken- 
nel, blows  his  bugle,  and  the  hounds  rush  forth,  raise 
their  noses,  and  utter  their  mingled  cries  of  joy,  from 
the  deep  bass  of  the  ancient  leader,  that  carries  the 
bell,  down  to  the  whipster,  whose  voice  is  not  yet  form- 
ed. The  owners  discuss  the  success  and  chances  of 
the  chase  and  the  breeding  and  qualities  of  the  dogs, 
their  mode  of  feeding,  and  medicining  them  apparent- 
ly in  the  knowing  style. 

Their  most  interesting  hunts  are  practised  by  night, 
and  are  called  fire-huntings.  The  dogs  are  leashed  to- 
gether. One  dog  carries  a  bell.  Two  or  three  black 
boys  carry  over  their  shoulders  fire-pans,  being  a 
grating  of  iron  hoops,  appended  to  a  long  handle,  and 
filled  with  blazing  torches  of  the  splinters  of  fat  pine. 
The  light  is  brilliant  and  dazzling.  A  group  of  gen- 
tlemen, clad  in  their  hunting  frocks,  mounted  on  fine 
horses,  the  joyous  cry  of  the  attending  dogs,  the 
blacks  with  their  fire-pans,  the  whole  cavalcade  as 
seen  at  a  distance  by  the  flickering  light  among  the  fo- 
liage of  the  trees,  furnishes  altogether  a  striking  spec- 
tacle. They  scour  the  woods.  The  deer  is  tracked. 
The  hound  that  carries  the  bell  is  unleashed.  The 
other  dogs  know  his  note  and  chime  in  on  his  key. 
The  bell  indicates  where  he  is.  The  deer,  dazzled  and 
appalled  by  the  glare  and  the  noise,  arouses  from 
sleep,  and  gazes  in  stupid  surprize.  The  eyes  are  dis- 
covered, shining  like  balls  of  fire.  The  hunter  aims 
his  rifle  between  the  eyes,  and  the  poor  animal  is  sure 
to  fall.  Such  is  the  most  common  mode.  They  calcu- 
late upon  success  with  so  much  certainty,  that  1  have 
often  been  promised  for  the  next  day  a  haunch  of  veni- 
son from  a  deer  yet  running  in  the  wild  woods.  I 
seldom  failed  to  receive  my  promised  present. 


340 


It  is  justly  said,  that  the  protestant  worship  has  less 
hold  of  the  people  here,  than  in  any  other  part  of  the 
United  States.  1  have  personally  found  a  very  af- 
fectionate and  attentive  audience  in  the  place  where  I 
reside,  and  friends  who  are  justly  dear  to  me.  The 
people  too  are  as  punctual  in  their  attendance  on  pub- 
lic worship  as  in  other  and  more  favoured  regions. 
But  there  are  very  few  Protestant  churches  of  any  sort. 
I  have  no  minister,  with  whom  I  could  interchange, 
nearer  than  Natchez,  a  distance  by  the  rivers  of  two- 
hundred  and  thirty  miles.  The  people  in  the  villages 
have  not  yet  begun  to  feel,  as  they  do  in  most  of  the 
villages  in  other  parts  of  the  United  States,  that  the 
spire  of  a  church  is  associated  in  the  mind  of  the  be- 
holder with  the  respectability  of  the  place.  There 
are  perhaps  three  Baptist  churches  in  the  state,  and 
the  Methodists  labour  with  their  customary  zeal. 
Their  known  feelings  on  the  subject  of  slavery  ope- 
rate as  an  impediment  to  their  usefulness.  The  Cath- 
olics have  a  great  many  churches  and  societies,  and 
the  influence  of  their  worship  here  differs  little  from 
that  which  it  exercises  in  other  places.  Another 
would  say  that  this  was  the  region  of  moral  desolation. 
My  heart,  indeed,  withers  in  want  of  the  society  and 
converse  of  some  one  like-minded  with  myself  upon 
this  deepest  of  all  concerns,  this  holiest  and  most  in- 
teresting of  all  subjects.  But,  while  I  see  that  relig- 
ion is  not  in  all  their  thoughts,  and  see  a  thousand 
things  to  be  amended  in  their  general  character,  I 
should  do  injustice  to  my  own  convictions,  did  I  not 
say,  that  I  see  many  things  in  the  character  of  this 
people,  that  might  be  profitably  transferred  to  the 
more  serious  people  of  the  North.  A  man,  grossly 
immoral,  or  grossly  ignorant;  is  not  welcomed  in  good 


341 


society,  merely  because  he  is  rich.  I  know  of  no 
people  among  whom  such  a  man  would  sink  into  more 
certain  contempt.  The  people  have  a  great  regard  for 
truth,  are  not  addicted  to  scandal,  and  when  a  man 
is  discovered  to  have  committed  a  cruel  or  a  treacher- 
ous act,  he  will  no  where  experience  an  indignant  ex- 
pression of  puhlic  feeling  more  universally. 


LETTER  XXVII. 

In  attempting  to  give  you  some  idea  of  the  con- 
dition of  the  slaves  in  the  southern  and  western  coun- 
try, I  feel  assured,  that  you  will  not  say,  that  my 
heart  has  been  hardened,  or  my  sensibility  benumbed 
by  the  influence  of  southern  feelings,  or  familiarity 
with  the  spectacle  before  me.  I  have  never  had  but 
one  feeling  on  this  subject,  and  in  the  very  regions 
where  I  reside,  I  have  never  expressed  but  one  senti- 
ment. I  have  never  owned  a  slave,  and  I  would  to 
God,  that  there  were  not  one  on  the  earth.  But  when 
I  hear  the  opinions  that  are  expressed  in  your  region, 
and  see  the  bitter  influence  of  misrepresentation  upon 
this  subject,  and  read  the  intemperate  and  inflammatory 
productions  of  the  day,  productions,  which,  I  doubt 
not,  are  in  many  instances  got  up  merely  for  political 
purposes,  I  tremble,  in  contemplating  their  probable 
influence  upon  public  feeling  at  the  South. 

Now  was  the  happiest  crisis,  that  has  occurred  since 
the  commencement  of  our  government,  for  breaking 
down  sectional  barriers,  ano  extinguishing  sectional 
feelings.     The  southern  people  were  beginning  to  es- 


342 


teem  and  regard  the  northern  character.  The  term 
yankee  began  to  be  a  term  rather  of  respect  than  re- 
proach. It  is  easy  to  see  how  soon  all  this  will  be  re- 
versed, if  we  incautiously  and  rashly  intermeddle  in 
this  matter.  The  natural  result  of  such  an  interfer- 
ence is,  to  exasperate  the  masters,  and  to  enhance  the 
sufferings  of  the  slaves. 

Let  us  hear,  for  a  moment,  the  southern  planter 
speak  for  himself,  for  I  remark  that  if  you  introduce 
the  subject  with  any  delicacy,  I  have  never  yet  heard 
one,  who  does  not  admit  that  slavery  is  an  evil  and 
an  injustice,  and  who  does  not  at  least  affect  to  de- 
plore the  evil. 

He  >^ys,  that  be  the  evil  ever  so  great,  and  the  thing 
ever  so  unjust,  it  has  always  existed  among  the  Jews, 
in  the  families  of  the  patriarchs,  in  the  republics  of 
Greece  and  Rome,  and  that  the  right  of  the  master  in 
his  slave,  is  clearly  recognised  by  St.  Paul ;  that  it 
has  been  transmitted  down,  through  successive  ages,  to 
the  colonization  of  North  America,  and  that  it  existed 
in  Massachusetts,  as  well  as  the  other  states.  *i  You," 
they  add,  "  had  but  a  few.  Your  climate  admitted 
the  labour  of  the  whites.  You  freed  them  because  it 
is  less  expensive  to  till  your  lands  with  free  hands, 
th  m  with  slaves.  We  have  a  scorching  sun,  and  an 
enfeebling  climate.  The  African  constitution  can 
alone  support  labour  under  such  circumstances.  We  of 
course  had  many  slaves.  Our  fathers  felt  the  neces- 
sity, and  yielding  to  the  expediency  of  the  case.  They 
have  entaihd  the  enormous  and  growing  evil  upon  us 
Onr  support,  our  very  existence,  as  well  as  that  of  our 
slaves,  dfcpeftd  upon  their  labour.  Take  them  from  us, 
and  you  re  nder  the  southern  country  a  desert.  You  des- 
troy the  great  staples  of  the  country,  and  what  is 


343 


worse,  you  find  no  way  in  which  to  dispose  of  the 
millions  that  you  emancipate."  If  we  reply,  that  we 
cannot  violate  a  principle,  for  the  sake  of  expediency, 
they  return  upon  us  with  the  question,  "  What  is  to 
be  done  ?  The  deplorable  condition  of  the  emanci- 
pated slaves  in  this  country  is  a  sufficient  proof,  that 
we  cannot  emancipate  the  rest  and  leave  them  here. 
Turn  them  all  loose  at  once,  and  ignorant  and  reckless 
as  they  ar^,  ignorant  as  they  are  of  the  use  or  the 
value  of  freedom,  they  would  devour  and  destroy 
the  subsistence  of  years,  in  a  day,  and  for  want  of 
other  objects  upou  which  to  prey,  would  prey  upon 
one;  another.  It.  is  a  chronic  moral  evil,  the  growth 
of  ages,  and  such  diseases  are  always  aggravated  by 
violent  and  harsh  remedies.  Leave  us  to  ourselves, 
or  point  out  the  way  in  which  we  can  gently  heal  this 
great  malady,  not  at  once,  but  in  a  regimen  of  years. 
The  evil  must  go  off  as  it  came  on,  by  a  slow  and 
gradual  method  of  cure.  Even  the  grand  scht-  me  of 
sending  them,  when  emancipated,  to  Ha)  ti,  or  their  na- 
tive shores,  does  not  altogether  meet  the  difficulties  ; 
for  negroes  avail  themselves  of  every  opportunity  to 
return  to  their  own  country,  and  many  of  them  have 
in  fact  secreted  themselves  in  the  holds  of  the  ships 
returning,  and  showed  themselves  only  when  it  was 
too  late  to  carry  them  back."  To  all  this,  and  much 
more  of  the  same  sort,  I  can  only  repeat  their  own 
language,  that  it  is  a  great  and  an  increasing  evil., 
much  easier  to  measure  and  weep  over,  than  to  heal, 
ana  that  it  is  obviously  unjust  to  reproach  the  people 
of  the  South  with  this  evil,  without  pointing  out  a 
proper  and  practicable  remedy.  To  me  it  clearly  ap- 
pears from  actual  and  long  observation,  of  the  condi- 
tion and  character  of  the  free  negroes,  that  the  efforts 


344, 


of  emancipation  ought  to  be  slow,  cautious,  and  tested 
by  experience. 

In  this  method  oF  cure,  substitutes  would  be  grad- 
ually Found  For  their  labour.  The  best  modes  oF  in- 
structing them  in  the  value  oF  Freedom,  and  rendering 
them  comfortable  and  happy  in  the  enjoyment  oF  it, 
would  be  gradually  marked  out.  They  should  be 
taught  to  read,  and  imbued  with  the  principles,  and 
morals  oF  the  gospel.  Every  affectionate  appeal 
should  be  made  to  the  humanity,  and  the  better  Feel- 
ings oF  the  masters.  In  no  instance  should  we  ex- 
pect to  instil  compassion  in  Favour  oF  their  slaves  into 
their  bosoms,  by  asserting  that  the  practice  is  abomina- 
ble, and  that  ihey  are  brutal  tyrants  to  exercise  their 
power  over  them.  Such  arguments  neither  persuade 
nor  convince.  Who  knows  but  that  gentle  admoni- 
tions, in  the  spirit  and  benevolence  oF  the  gospel,  might, 
in  the  end,  excite  among  them  purposes  to  inquire  For 
the  best  plan,  in  which  to  commence  an  efficient  effort 
For  their  gradual,  distant,  but  final  emancipation  ? 
Certain  it  is,  that  the  spirit  in  which  this  subject  has 
been  discussed  at  the  North,  and  by  the  Friends  of 
immediate  emancipation  among  them,  has  had  any  ef- 
fect rather  than  to  conciliate  the  masters,  and  induce 
them  to  set  themselves  to  work  in  earnest,  to  melio- 
rate the  condition  of  the  slaves.  But  I  very  willingly 
dismiss  a  discussion,  which  would  lead  me  Far  beyond 
m>  Umits,  and  return  to  what  is  much  surer  ground — 
the  consideration  oF  the  actual  character  and  condition 
oF  the  slaves. 

I  have  elsewhere  expressed  my  conviction,  that 
the  negroes  possess  a  gentle,  susceptible,  and  affection- 
ate nature.  Their  bosoms  are  more  open  to  the  im- 
pressions oF  religion,  than    those  oF  the  whites. 


345 


Wherever  the  Methodists  come  in  contact  with  them* 
their  earnest  and  vehement  address  softens  the  obdura- 
cy of  the  blacks  at  once.  They  have  gained  many 
converts  among  the  slaves.  They  use  a  language 
that  falls  in  with  their  apprehensions,  and  possibly 
their  popularity  with  them  is  enhanced  by  the  preva- 
lent impression,  that  the  Methodists  are  the  exclusive 
friends  of  slaves,  and  of  emancipation. 

In  the  region  where  I  live,  the  masters  allow  entire 
liberty  to  the  slaves  to  attend  public  worship,  and  as 
far  as  my  knowledge  extends,  it  is  generally  the  case 
in  Louisiana.  We  have  regular  meetings  of  the  blacks 
in  the  building  where  I  attend  public  worship.  I  have, 
in  years  past,  devoted  myself  assiduously,  every  Sab- 
bath morning,  to  the  labour  of  learning  them  to  read. 
I  find  them  quick  of  apprehension.  They  learn  ihe 
rudiments  of  reading  quicker  than  even  the  whites, 
but  it  is  with  me  an  undoubting  conviction,  that  hav- 
ing advanced  them  to  a  certain  point,  it  is  much  more 
difficult  to  carry  them  beyond.  In  other  words,  they 
learn  easily  to  read,  to  sing,  and  scrape  the  fiddle. 
But  it  would  be  difficult  to  teach  them  arithmetic,  or 
combination  of  ideas  or  abstract  thinking  of  any  kind. 
Whether  their  skull  indicates  this  by  the  modern  prin- 
ciples of  craniology,  or  not,  I  cannot  say.  But  1  am 
persuaded,  that  this  susceptible  and  affectionate  race 
have  heads  poorly  adapted  to  reasoning  and  algebra. 

I  had  heard,  before  I  visited  the  slave  states  in  the 
West,  appalling  stories  of  the  cruelty  and  barbarity  of 
masters  to  slaves.  In  effect  I  saw  there  instances  of 
cruel  ami  brutal  masters.  But  I  was  astonished  to  find 
that  the  slaves  in  general  had  the  most  cheerful  coun- 
tenances, and  were  apparently  the  happiest  people 
that  1  saw.  They  appeared  to  me  to  be  as  well  fed 
44 


316 


and  clothed,  as  the  labouring;  poor  at  the  North. 
Here  I  was  told,  that  the  (cruelty  and  brutality  were 
not  here,  but  among  the  great  planters  down  the  Mis- 
sissippi. So  strongly  is  this  idea  inculcated,  that  it  is 
held  up  to  the  slave,  as  a  bugbear  over  his  head  to 
bind  him  to  good  behaviour,  that  if  he  does  not  behave 
well,  he  will  be  carried  down  the  river,  and  be  sold. 
When  I  descended  to  this  country,  I  had  prepared  my- 
self to  witness  cruelty  on  the  one  part,  and  misery  on 
the  other.  I  found  the  condition  of  the  slaves  in  the 
lower  country  to  be  still  more  tolerable,  than  in  that 
above  ;  they  are  more  regularly  and  better  clothed,  en- 
dure less  inclemency  of  the  seasons,  are  more  syste- 
matically supplied  with  medical  attendance  and  medi- 
cine, when  diseased,  and  what  they  esteem  a  great 
hardship,  but  what  is  in  fact  a  most  fortunate  cir- 
cumstance in  their  condition,  they  cannot,  as  in  the 
upper  country,  obtain  whiskey  at  all. 

It  is  a  certain  fact,  and  to  me  it  is  a  delightful  one, 
that  a  good  portion  of  the  lights  of  reason  and  human- 
ity, that  have  been  pouring  such  increasing  radiance 
upon  every  part  of  the  country,  have  illumined  the 
huts  of  the  slaves,  and  have  dawned  in  the  hearts  of 
their  masters.  Certain  it  is,  that  in  visiting  great 
numbers  of  plantations,  I  have  generally  discovered  in 
the  slaves  affection  for  their  masters,  and  sometimes, 
though  not  so  generally,  for  the  overseers.  It  appears 
to  be  a  growing  desire  among  masters,  to  be  popular 
with  their  slaves,  and  they  have  finally  become  im- 
pressed, that  humanity  is  their  best  interest,  that 
cheerful,  v\ell  fed  and  clothed  slaves,  perform  so  much 
more  productive  labour,  as  to  unite  speculation  and 
kindness  in  the  same  calculation.  In  some  plantations 
they  have  a  jury  of  negroes  to  try  offences  under  the 


347 


eye  of  the  master,  as  judge,  and  it  generally  happens 
that  he  is  obliged  to  mitigate  the  severity  of  their  sen- 
tence. The  master  too  has  hold  of  the  affection  of 
the  slaves,  by  interposing  his  authority  in  certain  cases 
between  the  slave  and  the  overseer.  Where  the  mas- 
ter is  realy  a  considerate  and  kind  man,  the  patriarchal 
authority  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  simple  and  affec- 
tionate veneration  on  the  other,  render  this  relation  of 
master  and  slave  not  altogether  so  forbidding,  as  we 
have  been  accustomed  to  consider  it. 

The  negro  village  that  surrounds  a  planter's  house, 
is,  for  the  most  part,  the  prototype  of  the  village  of 
Owen  of  Lanark.  It  is  generally  oblong  rows  of 
uniform  huts.  In  some  instances  I  have  seen  them 
of  brick,  but  more  generally  of  cypress  timber,  and 
they  are  made  tight  and  comfortable.  In  some  part  of 
the  village  is  a  hospital  and  medicine  chest.  Most 
masters  have  a  physician  employed  by  the  job  ,  and 
the  slave,  as  soon  as  diseased,  is  removed  there.  Pro- 
vision is  also  made  for  the  subsistence  and  comfort 
of  those  that  are  aged  and  past  their  labour.  In  this 
village  by  night  you  hear  the  hurdy-gurdy,  and  the 
joyous  and  unthinking  laugh  of  people,  who  have  no 
care  nor  concern  for  the  morrow.  I  enter  among 
them,  and  the  first  difficulty  appears  to  arise  from 
jealousy,  and  mutual  charges  of  inconstancy,  between 
the  husbands  and  wives.  In  fact,  the  want  of  any 
sanction  or  permanence  to  their  marriage  connexions, 
and  the  promiscuous  intimacies  that  subsist  among  them, 
are  not  only  the  sources  of  most  of  their  quarrels  and 
troubles,  but  are  among  the  most  formidable  evils,  to  a 
serious  mind,  in  their  condition.  You  now  and  then 
see  a  moody  and  sullen  looking  negro,  and  if  you  in- 
quire into  the  cause  of  his  gloom,  you  will  be  informed 


348 

that  he  has  been  a  fugitive,  that  he  has  lived  long  in 
the  woods  upon  thieving,  that  he  has  been  arrested 
and  whipped,  and  is  waiting  his  opportunity  to  escape 
again.  Judging  of  their  condition  from  their  coun- 
tenances, and  from  their  unthinking  merriment,  I 
should  think  them  the  happiest  people  here,  and  in 
general,  far  more  so  than  their  masters. 

It  is  a  most  formidable  part  of  the  evil  of  slavery, 
that  the  race  is  far  more  prolific  than  that  of  the 
whites,  and  that  their  population  advances  in  a  greater 
ratio.  They  are  at  present  in  this  region  more  nume- 
rous than  the  w  hites,  and  this  inequality  is  increasing 
every  day.  Thinking  people  here,  who  look  to  the 
condition  of  their  posterity,  are  appalled  at  this  view  of 
things,  and  admit  that  something  must  be  done  to 
avert  the  certain  final  consequences  of  such  an  order 
of  things.  I  remark,  in  concluding  this  subject,  that 
the  people  here  always  have  under  their  eye  the  con- 
dition and  character  of  the  free  blacks.  It  tends  to 
confirm  them  in  their  opinions  upon  the  subject.  The 
slaves  are  much  addicted  to  theft,  but  the  free  blacks 
much  more  so.  They,  poor  wretches,  have  the  bad 
privilege  of  getting  drunk,  and  they  avail  themselves 
of  it.  The  heaviest  scourge  of  New  Orleans  is  its 
multitudes  of  free  black  and  coloured  people.  They 
wallow  in  debauchery,  are  quarrelsome  and  saucy,  and 
commit  crimes,  in  proportion  to  the  slaves,  as  a  hun- 
dred to  one. 

The  population  of  Louisiana  is  supposed  to  be,  at 
present,  between  two  and  three  hundred  thousand. 
After  New  Orleans,  the  most  populous  parishes  are 
B  uon  Rouge,  Feliciana,  Rapids,  and  Natchitoches. 
Parishes  in  this  region  are  civil  divisions,  derived  from 
the  former   French  regime.     They  are  often  larger 


349 


Chan  our  counties  at  the  North.  This  country,  from 
the  character  of  its  soil,  cannot  have  a  dense  popula- 
tion, until  the  swamps  are  drained.  The  population, 
except  the  sparse  inhabitants  of  the  pine  woods,  is 
fixed  along  the  margin  of  the  water  courses,  and  the 
greater  part  of  the  planters  can  convey  their  produce 
immtdiately  on  board  the  steam-boats. 

I  could  not,  without  consulting  books  on  the  subject, 
give  you  other  than  general  ideas  upon  the  manage- 
ment of  the  government,  and  the  administration  of 
justice.  I  have  not  touched  upon  these  subjects,  in 
my  remarks  upon  the  upper  country,  because  in  all 
these  points  there  is  so  little  difference  between  that 
region  and  yours,  as  hardly  to  call  for  a  description. 
Here  it  is  otherwise.  The  machine  of  government 
is  managed  somewhat  differently  here.  The  legisla- 
tive department  is  substantially  the  same  with  yours, 
and  is  elected  much  in  the  same  way.  Your  political 
disputes  turn  upon  principles.  Here  they  turn  upon 
men.  The  speaker  of  the  house,  and  the  president  of 
the  senate,  ought  to  understand  French,  for  half  the 
debates  are  in  that  language.  The  laws  are  promul- 
gated equally  in  French  and  English.  Motions  are 
put  in  both  languages.  Some  of  the  French  legisla- 
tors are  very  animated  speakers,  and  use  a  great  deal 
of  gesture.  Their  speeches  that  I  heard,  however, 
struck  me  as  being  rather  florid,  and  in  bad  taste. 
The  French  and  American  parties  are  nearly  balanced. 
Sometimes  the  one  gains  the  ascendancy,  and  some- 
times the  other. 

In  the  administration  of  justice,  the  civil  code  has 
paramount  authority,  and  common  law  is  not  supposed 
to  have  weight.  They  quote  it,  I  believe,  in  illustra- 
tion of  points  and  for  precedeut.    The  courts  are  or- 


350 


ganized,  and  justice  administered  in  other  respects  as 
with  you,  except  that  a  most  important  ojficer  in  this 
department  is  the  44  parish  judge.?'  He  decides  pro- 
bate affairs,  and  holds  a  parish  court,  which  takes  cogni- 
zance of  a  great  variety  of  causes,  He  is  said  here 
to  be  a  kind  of  general  heir  to  the  estates  of  deceased 
persons,  from  the  great  power  entrusted  to  his  hands 
in  the  setting  of  successions.  The  office  is  very  res- 
ponsible, and  the  salary,  as  is  the  case  in  fact  of  all 
the  officers  in  the  state,  is  ample. 

I  might  say  something  of  the  distinguished  men  of 
this  state,  but  my  limits  are  too  narrow,  and  I  know 
them  not  sufficiently  to  speak  with  confidence.  in 
pur  profession,  the  brilliant  and  pious  Larned,  who 
has  left  such  a  deep  impression  at  New  Orleans,  has 
gone.  His  voice  of  music  is  still,  and  the  lightning 
of  his  eye  is  quenched.  The  present  Presbyterian 
minister  has  few  compeers  in  the  elegance  of  his  fine 
essay  style.  He  is  an  instance  of  an  extemporaneous 
speaker,  who  lays  sentence  after  sentence,  and  para- 
graph after  paragraph,  entirely  fit  for  the  press,  and 
who  trips  seldomer  than  a  person  reading  from  notes. 
The  Rev.  Dr.  Dubourg,  the  Catholic  bishop,  has  a 
fine  form,  the  most  dignified  manner,  graceful  gesture, 
and  the  deep  and  mellow  tones  of  an  organ.  From 
him  Protestant  ministers  might  learn  how  manner 
will  recommend  indifferent  matter.  Livingston,  au- 
thor of  the  new  code,  is  a  man  of  first  rate  powers. 
I  have  not  read  more  elegant  or  brilliant  discussions, 
than  his  preliminary  defences  of  his  code.  The  amia- 
ble Hawkins,  whose  premature  death  was  so  deep- 
ly lamented,  and  by  none  more  than  myself,  was  a 
rising  lawyer.  General  Ripley  is  sufficiently  known 
at  the  North  as  a  brilliant  man.     There  is  much 


351 


smartness  and  future  promise  in  Eustis.  Mr.  Brown, 
the  minister  to  France,  is  spoken  of  as  full,  brilliant, 
and  profound i  Among  the  Fretich,  Mazzereau,  and  a 
number  of  others,  are  fine  speakers.  Indeed  there 
seems  to  be  in  the  men  of  this  region  an  aptitude  for 
fine  speaking.  I  might  easily  swell  this  catalogue, 
and  add  here  the  names  of  men  of  this  profession 
with  respect  to  whom  I  feel  the  partiality  of  friend- 
ship. I  speak  only  of  those  whom  I  have  heard 
speak.  There  are  doubtless  many  others  who  are 
equally  distinguished.  The  bar  has  certainly  great 
power  here.  Fees  are  very  great,  litigation  common, 
and  "  wherever  the  carcase  is,  there  will  the  eagles  be 
gathered."  The  bar  has  many  brilliant  men  in  the 
region  where  1  reside.  The  very  great  fortunes  ac- 
quired b\r  successful  lawyers  furnish  the  excitements, 
that  create  and  call  forth  whatever  can  be  generated  in 
the  mind. 

1  shall  only  glance  at  the  history  of  this  country. 
It  was  first  explored  by  adventurers  from  Canada, 
who  extended  their  walks  beyond  the  lakes,  until,  to 
their  astonishment,  they  found  themselves  on  rivers 
that  flowed  west,  and  in  a  direction  opposite  to  the 
great  river  of  their  own  country.  These  rivers 
brought  them  on  the  bosom  of  the  mighty  Mississippi. 
As  they  sailed  down  its  dark  and  silent  forests,  it  is 
carious  to  hear  with  what  naivete  they  describe  the 
grandeur,  the  richness,  and  luxuriance  of  the  scene. 
The  poor  and  sour  grapes  were  to  them  grapes  of 
paradise  ;  the  screaming  blue-jay  was  a  nightingale, 
and  every  object  furnished  them  a  theme  for  exclama- 
tion and  delight.  It  was  afterwards  explored  by 
French  navigators  from  the  Atlantic  shore,  was  set- 
tled, and  became  the  theatre  of  the  fatal  golden  dreams 


352 


of  Law's  speculation.  I  have  seen  three  persons  of 
the  gipsey  race,  said  to  be  descended  from  a  colony 
from  the  Grecian  islands,  that  was  transported  to  the 
bay  of  Biloxi  to  cultivate  the  olive  and  the  vine. 
This  interesting  colony  perished.  Tne  settlement  be- 
came the  scene  of  misery,  disease,  and  starvation,  was 
broken  up,  and  renewed.  At  one  time,  the  Span-, 
iards  fell  upon  the  French,  and  massacred  them,  not 
as  enemies,  but  as  heretics,  enemies  of  God  and  the 
Virgin.  The  French  retaliated  upon  the  Spaniards, 
not  as  enemies,  but  as  traitors  and  cut-throats.  The 
whole  colony,  root  and  branch,  was  well  nigh  being 
destroyed  by  a  combination  of  Indians. 

Under  Iberville,  the  colony  began  to  acquire  per- 
manence, and  to  establish  those  beautiful  plantations, 
that  now  adorn  the  country.  In  1763,  it  was  ceded 
to  the  Spaniards,  and  after  the  French  revolution, 
transferred  again  to  the  French  government.  During 
the  administration  of  Mr.  Jeff  -  son,  it  was  purchased 
by  the  United  States  from  the  French  government,  for 
fifteen  millions  of  dollars.  It  included  all  the  country 
west  of  the  Mississippi,  that  is  now  divided  into  the 
state  of  Louisiana,  the  territory  of  Arkansas,  and  the 
state  of  Missouri.  Under  the  American  government* 
the  aspect  of  things  changed  rapidly.  The  lands  in- 
creased in  value.  New  Orleans  increased  greatly  in 
population  ;  its  sugar  cultivation  was  much  extended, 
and  its  agriculture  became  extremely  prosperous- 
During  the  late  war,  it  sustained  a  most  formidable 
attack  by  a  large  British  force,  under  general  Pack- 
enham.  Under  the  energetic  and  wise  command  of 
General  Jackson,  on  the  eighth  of  January,  1815,  the 
American  forces  gained  a  very  decisive  victory  over 
the  British,  in  which  the  British  lost  their  leading  gen- 


353 

erals,  and  more  than  two  thousand  men.  Louisiana 
was  soon  after  evacuated  by  the  British,  and  has  been 
constantly  advancing  in  wealth  and  prosperity  since 
that  period. 

The  first  year  that  I  spent  in  Alexandria,  passed 
pleasantly  in  the  discharge  of  uniform  duties.  My 
society  was  small,  but  embraced  some  of  the  most 
amiable  families,  with  which  I  have  been  acquainted. 
You  are  informed  how  I  here  came  in  contact  with  a 
respectable  citizen  of  Alexandria,  of  high  standing  in 
the  country,  a  graduate  from  our  own  alma  mater,  and 
with  whose  father,  a  clergyman  in  my  vicinity  while 
in  New  England,  I  had  a  long,  intimate,  and  af- 
fectionate intercourse.  Such  an  acquisition  was  in- 
valuable. If  any  one  would  know  the  value  of  a 
companion,  bred  in  the  same  region,  formed  to  similar 
habits,  versed  in  all  kinds  of  literature,  a  scholar,  a 
gentleman,  and  a  man  capable  of  sincere  and  ardent 
friendship,  let  him  wander  without  such  a  friend  ten 
years  in  the  wilderness  of  the  West,  and  then,  where 
such  a  thing  was  least  expected,  let  him  find  such  a 
Triend. 

The  people,  too,  were  attentive  to  my  ministry. 
We  formed  a  singing  society,  and  the  people  were  be- 
ginning to  cultivate  a  taste  for  sacred  music.  My 
residence  was  every  way  comfortable,  and  I  was  be- 
ginning to  hope  for  that  repose,  so  necessary  to  a 
frame,  so  exhausted  by  fatigue  and  disease  as  mine. 
The  climate,  however,  of  this  delightful  village  where 
I  reside,  is  fatal.  It  is  embowered  by  china  and 
catalpa  trees,  is  perfectly  dry  and  level,  and  its  streets 
are  kept  clean,  and  every  thing  would  seem  to  prom- 
ise health.  But  in  this  pleasant  village  the  unseen 
seeds  of  disease  are  always  sowing.  In  the  latter 
45 


354 


part  of  the  winter,  I  found  that  my  severe  duties, 
concurring  with  the  damp  and  sultry  atmosphere,  be- 
gan to  wear  upon  me.  I  made  some  inquiries 
respecting  the  best  place  of  retirement  for  the  sum- 
mer ;  for  the  people  here  retire  in  the  sickly  months 
to  different  points  in  the  pine  woods.  I  selected  a 
spot  where  two  families  had  already  fixed  with  the 
same  intentions.  My  particular  friends  built  houses 
in  the  vicinity  of  mine.  In  the  latter  part  of  May 
I  became  seriously  ill,  and  we  moved  into  the  pine 
woods.  I  there  soon  regained  comfortable  health. 
You  have  wished  some  details  of  our  manner  of  pas- 
sing our  time  there,  and  I  will  give  them. 

We  are  situated  on  a  fine  hill-slope,  where  the  tall, 
straight  pines  rise  by  thousands  on  every  side.  The 
soil  is  a  greyish  gravelly  sand,  as  dry  in  an  hour  after 
the  greatest  rain,  as  before.  We  were  obliged  to  fell 
a  hundred  trees  that  were  tall  enough  to  have  reached 
our  house.  There  are  nine  or  ten  houses  occupied  by 
neighbours  and  friends,  all  within  call.  We  have  fine 
springs  and  spring-branches,  and  the  air  has  an  aro- 
matic and  terebinthine  odour,  that  is  deemed  healthy, 
and  at  least  is  grateful.  At  a  little  distance  from  us 
is  a  beautiful  and  clear  stream,  shaded  with  laurels 
and  grape-vine  arbours,  and  yielding  the  greatest 
abundance  of  fish  of  any  stream  that  I  ever  saw7. 
During  the  summer,  I  took  more  than  two  thousand 
trout  myself,  besides  pickerel  and  other  fish.  The 
trout  are  beautifully  mottled  with  white  and  gold,  and 
would  weigh  on  an  average  a  pound.  We  had  pub- 
lic chowder-parties,  where  sixty  people  sat  down  un- 
der grape-vine  arbours,  to  other  good  things  beside 
fish. 


355 


But  our  own  private  way  of  getting  along  was  still 
more  pleasant.     There  were  three  or  four  intimate 
and  endeared  families,  that  had  no  ceremony  in  their 
meeting,  and  we  took  our  evening  tea  alternately  at 
each  other's  houses,    in  the  morning  we  rose  with  the 
sun,  breathed  the  balsamic  air  of  the  pines,  took  our 
angling  rods,  followed  by  our  wives  and  children  to 
the  brink  of  the  stream.    A  carpet  was  spread  under 
the  beeches,  and  close  by  a  fine  spring.    We  caught 
the  trout,  and  threw  them  over  the  bank  to  the  black 
girls,  who  had  kindled  a  fire  for  cooking  them.  It 
seldom  cost  us  half  an  hour  to  take  enough  for  twenty 
people.     The  other  necessary  articles  were  supplied 
as  each  guest  furnished  the  proportions  most  conven- 
ient to  him.    I  have  never  made  more  delightful  re- 
pasts ;  nor  have  I  ever  passed  a  summer  more  pleas- 
antly.   A  kind  of  sad  presentiment  used  to  hang  over 
my  mind,  to  embitter  even  this  pleasant  summer,  an 
impression,  that  as  it  was  so  delightful,  it  would  be 
the  last  pleasant  one  allotted  to  me  on  the  earth. 
When  we  left  the  pine  woods  the  last  of  September, 
for  Alexandria,  when,  like  the  patriarchs,  we  had  pre- 
pared the  line  of  march  with  our  "  stuff"  and  our 
little  ones,  through  the  woods  to  our  house  in  town, 
the  poetical  paroxysm  came  on  me  again,  and  I  pro- 
duced the  subjoined  "  Farewell  to  the  Pine  Woods." 
I  make  no  apology  for  adding  also  verses  by  my  son, 
on  the  same  occasion.    I  hope  it  will  not  be  a  surfeit 
of  poetry,  if  I  close  the  account  with  verses  of  his, 
entitled  "  Reminiscences,"  as  they  also  fall  in  with  the 
strain,  and  the  object  of  this  work.    Perhaps  you  will 
take  into  view  his  youth,  and  the  inexperience  of  his 
muse,  and  find  them  tolerable. 


356 


FAREWELL  TO  THE  PINE  WOODS. 

Hsemus,  sweet  stream,  I've  passed  the  sultry  days, 

Most  pleasantly,  along  thy  verdant  banks; 

And  it  befits  me,  ere  I  turn  again 

To  life's  hard  toil,  to  pay  thee  tribute  due. 

For  I  remember  well  the  scorching  day, 

When,  weary,  faint,  and  wan,  I  saw  thee  first, 

Expecting  soon  to  lay  the  load  of  life 

Beneath  the  turf ;  but  thy  cool  wave 

And  healthful  breeze  inspired  other  hopes. 

Thy  fountains,  springing  midst  the  wavy  pines, 

Well  from  the  hills,  to  join  thee,  o'er  a  sand 

As  pure  as  mountain-snow  ;  so  bright, 

That  the  gay  red-bird  tunes  his  note  of  joy, 

Soon  as  he  settles  on  thy  laurel  branch. 

How  often,  ere  the  jocund  morn  had  ting'd 

Thy  groves  with  gold,  my  anglifig  rod  in  hand, 

From  thy  pellucid  wave  I've  dfawn  the  trout, 

In  all  his  pride  of  mottled  white  and  gold, 

And  borne  the  cumbrous  prize,  triumphant,  home. 

And  still,  with  each  returning  summer  morn, 

Thou  didst  supply  the  inexhausted  feast; 

And,  while  we've  set  us  on  thy  cooling  bank, 

We've  carolled,  told  the  mirthful  tale  in  joy, 

As  careless,  as  the  roving  Indian  wild. 

And  we  have  had  good  store  of  courteous  dames, 

Who  brought  their  little  prattlers  to  our  home, 

Arching,  and  open,  like  the  o'erhanging  sky, 

Unconscious  of  the  jealous  lock,  or  latch. 

By  joint  consent  with  these  dear  friends  we  threw 

Observance,  form  and  state  all  to  the  winds ; 

All  unsophisticated,  like  the  first  pair. 

And  then,  when  evening  from  the  azure  east, 

Threw  her  deep  mantle  o'er  the  dark-brown  pine, 


357 


W'eve  sat,  well  pleased,  to  list  the  breezy  moan, 
Nature's  Eolian  harp,  to  sink,  or  swell 
Along  the  boundless  forest-tops,  in  strains, 
That  awe,  impress,  or  counsel  sleep  : — 
This  vesper  hymn  prolong'd,  till  the  bright  moon, 
Thron'd  on  her  silver  car,  and  twinkling  stars 
Seem  but  to  float  just  o'er  the  forest  lops. 
Sudden  the  blazing  torches  rise  around, 
And  pour  their  flickering  light  amidst  the  trees, 
And  spread  illusions  o'er  our  humble  sheds, 
As  those,  that  mark  enchantment's  fabled  tales. 
Our  cabins  turn  to  palaces,  and  the  dark  pine, 
Seen  half  in  living  light,  and  half  in  shade, 
Half  lucid  verdure,  and  half  deepening  gloom, 
Shows,  like  the  light  of  Ufe,  shut  by  the  grave 
From  the  dark  regions  of  eternity. 


WRITTEN   ON  LEAVING  THE  PINE  WOODS. 


Farewell,  ye  groves,  that  T  am  leaving, 
Where  I've  spent  the  summer  heats; 
Autumnal  gales  now  force  us,  grieving, 
To  resume  our  winter  seats. 

The  breezes  o'er  thy  pine  tops  playing, 
Strike  the  ear  with  mimick  roar  ; 
Like  surges,  which  the  storm  conveying, 
Dash  madly  on  some  rocky  shore. 

Oft  hath  their  murmur  lull'd  me  sleeping, 
Heard  amid  the  silent  night ; 
While  solemn  owls  their  vigils  keeping, 
Sang  a  requiem  o'er  the  light. 

Farewell,  thou  stream,  from  fountains  springing, 
Crystal  waters  form  thy  flood ; 


358 

Grape-vine  arbours,  o'er  thee  flinging,  ■ 
Mark  thy  course  amidst  the  wood.* 

How  oft  thy  grateful  coolness  courting, 
In  thy  bosom  did  I  lave ; 
Or  watch  the  finned  tribes  thick  sporting, 
In  thy  clear  pellucid  wave. 

How  oft  along  thy  banks  I've  wandered, 
Viewed  thee  rippling  o'er  the  sand  ; 
And,  lost  in  thought,  how  deeply  pondered 
On  my  distant,  native  land. 

That  land  shall  own  each  fondest  feeling, 
Twin'd  about  this  swelling  breast; 
Till  death,  its  hopes  and  fears  concealing, 
Sinks  them  both  alike  to  /est. 

Her  granite  cliffs,  that  breast  the  ocean, 
Dashing  back  the  Atlantic  wave  ; 
Her  sons,  that  o'er  its  wild  commotion 
Bid  their  country's  banner  wave : 

Her  vales  with  gentle  slope  descending, 
Frequent  with  the  glittering  spire; 
Her  hills,  where  first  our  sires  contending, 
Bade  their  haughty  foes  retire  : 

Such  were  the  subjects  of  my  musing, 
As  I  wandered  down  thy  glade; 
E'en  now,  myself  in  fancy  losing, 
From  my  subject  1  have  strayed. 

How  oft,  beneath  yon  empty  dwelling, 
Did  we  pass  the  cheerful  day ; 
While  o'er  yon  hills,  our  music  swelling, 
Died  in  softest  notes  away. 

*  To  an  inhabitant  of  the  valley  of  Red  River,  a  clear  running  stream  is  a 
rarity. 


359 


When  night,  her  dusky  mantle  throwing, 
Clad  the  earth  with  sable  vest ; 
The  cheerful  torch-light  brightly  glowing;, 
Showed  a  scene  by  magic  drest.* 

Each  blazing  torch  is  now  extinguished, 
Night  and  silence  reign  supreme  ; 
The  cricket's  chirp  alone  distinguished, 
Yields  another  mournful  theme. 

Once  more,  ye  groves  and  valleys  smiling 
Fast  receding  from  my  view; 
With  future  hopes  my  grief  beguiling, 
1  must  turn  and  say,  adieu. 


REMINISCENCES. 

The  following  stanzas  were  written  in  the  leisure  hours  of  several  days. 
They  are  quite  unconnected  and  unfinished,  for  I  find  the  subject  almost  in 
exhaustible. 

A  wanderer  long  in  that  wide  spreading  vale, 
Through  which  with  devious  course  and  lengthened  way, 
The  western  Nile,  through  many  a  varied  dale, 
Through  shifting  scenes  and  changing  clime  doth  stray, 
From  those  hoar  hills  where  crystal  fountains  play, 
And  form  tne  parent  stream's  transparent  tide, 
By  mighty  stieams,  that  each  their  tribute  pay, 
To  where  those  gathered  floods  majesctic  glide, 
And  mingle  with  the  boundless  waste  of  waters  wide. 

*  We  made  use  of  no  candles  while  in  the  pine  woods,  burning  pitch-pine 
knots,  which  were  placed  on  stands  at  a  little  distance  from  the  house,  and 
which  when  lighted  up  by  night,  gave  a  singular  appearance  to  the  houses, 
and  the  surrounding  woods. 


360 


Nature,  in  every  varied  dress  I've  seen, — 
From  forests  which  returning  winters  blight, 
To  fairer  fields  clad  in  perennial  green, — 
From  climes  clothed  in  her  snowy  garb  of  white, 
To  those  where  southern  suns  with  radiance  bright. 
On  happier  lands  diffuse  their  softened  ray, 
From  plains  where  vision  only  bounds  the  sight, 
Which  like  a  verdant  sea,  out-spreading  lay, 
To  forests  dark  and  dense,  that  half  exclude  the  day, 

I've  met  the  Indian  on  his  native  wild, 
Free  and  unfettered  as  the  mountain  wind. 
And  I  have  marked  him  as  in  scorn  he  smiled, 
On  the  full  city,  with  its  arts  refined. 
Perchance  compared  it  in  his  haughty  mind 
With  his  own  solitudes  far  in  the  west, 
Where  free  from  laws,  by  limits  unconfined, 
He  sought  his  game,  where'er  it  liked  him  best, 
As  nature  prompted,  took  his  pleasures  or  his  rest. 

And  those  rude  foresters,  who  lead  the  van, 
Who  through  untrodden  wilds  the  highway  pave, 
On  which  ihe  march  of  civilized  man 
Roils  steady  onward  to  the  western  wave, 
Reekless  of  law,  but  generous  and  brave, 
They  ever  met  with  welcome  kind, 
Which  I  received  as  freely  as  they  gave. 
And  oft  beneath  their  cabins  rude  did  find 
That  noblest  guest,  a  happy,  independent  mind. 

In  these  primeval  scenes,  there  is  a  spell, 
To  me  more  dear,  than  all  the  mouldering  heaps 
On  which  imagination  loves  to  dwell  : 
For  there,  beneath  the  crumbling  ruin,  sleeps 
A  buried  world,  o'er  which  the  poet  wTeeps, 
While  here,  a  bursting  empire  meets  his  eye, 
The  spreading  wave  of  life  still  onward  sweeps. 
And  as  he  views  the  mighty  flood  roll  by, 
His  bosom  beats  with  proud  anticipation  high : 


361 


I  love  to  rove  beneath  the  spreading  shade 
Of  mighty  forests,  whose  grey  columns  stand, 
From  age  to  age,  in  hoary  moss  arrayed, 
And  cast  their  giant  foliage  o'er  the  land 
In  wild  luxuriance.    There  I  trace  the  hand, 
That  guides  the  rolling  planets  in  their  spheres, 
That  moulds  a  grain,  and  numbers  every  sand, 
For  there,  unveiled,  his  powerful  arm  appears, 
Whether  in  wrath  it  prostrates,  or  in  mercy  rears. 

Whether  he  made  the  winged  winds  his  steeds, 
And  on  the  dark  tornado  rode  alone, 
Majestic  and  sublime  ;  while  crushed  like  reeds, 
The  sylvan  monarchs  in  his  path  were  strown, 
Or  on  the  midnight  cloud,  his  gloomiest  throne, 
Let  forth  the  angry  lightnings  from  their  cells, 
And  with  his  thunder  drowned  the  sullen  moan, 
Which  ever  from  the  storm  rocked  forest  swells, 
As  wails  aloud  the  fiend  who  in  the  tempest  dwells. 

Or  whether,  borne  upon  the  zephyr's  wing, 
From  milder  climes  he  held  his  joyous  way  j 
While  in  his  train,  the  rosy  footed  Spring, 
Crowned  with  the  flowery  diadem  of  May, 
Exulting  came,  or  with  the  genial  ray 
Of  that  bright  sun,  where  his  effulgence  glows, 
Reared  from  the  earth,  the  countless  germs  that 
Within  her  breast;  till,  wakened  from  repose, 
Around  its  sleeping  sires  an  infant  forest  rose. 

I  felt  his  presence  in  the  midnight  storm, 
Alike  as  in  the  balmy  breath  of  Spring, 
I  saw  his  glance  in  radiant  sunbeams  warm 
Its  smile  of  gladness  o'er  the  green  earth  fling  ; 
He  bloomed  in  flowers,  inspired  the  birds  to  sing, 
His  finger  traced  the  river's  endless  course, 
He  bade  its  thousand  streams  their  tribute  bring, 
And  piled  the  snowy  mountains  at  its  source, 
Creation  was  his  home — Omnipotence  his  force. 

46 


362 


While  wandering  in  that  solitary  world, 
How  oft  by  the  majestic  river's  side, 
When  not  a  ripple  on  its  bosom  curled, 
At  eve  1  lay,  and  saw  the  mighty  tide, 
Broad  and  resistless,  down  its  channel  glide, 
A  flood  of  silver  in  the  moonlight  beam, 
While  o'er  the  sleeping  forest  far  and  wide, 
And  o'er  the  star-gemed  bosom  of  the  stream, 
Deep  brooding  silence  sat  and  reigned  with  sway  supreme. 

Or  when  the  cheerful  light  of  ruddy  morn 
Had  wakened  nature  from  her  deep  repose, 
How  sweet  the  starting  boatmen's  bugle  horn 
Re-echoing  from  the  silent  forests  rose, 
As  from  his  willow  haven  forth  he  goes 
To  tempt  the  dangers  of  the  tedious  way, 
Till  far  away  from  the  still  whitening  snows, 
That  on  his  native  mountains  bleaching  lay, 
He  finds  a  clime,  mild  as  their  softened  breeze  of  May. 

But  see,  emerging  from  the  verdant  slope 
Of  yonder  point,  where  the  lithe  willow  rears 
In  files  successive  to  the  poplar's  cope, 
The  gay  steam-boat  in  all  her  pride  appears, 
As  up  the  stream,  the  sturdy  helmsman  steers, 
The  patient  leadsman  chants  his  measured  song, 
And  mark,  as  in  her  rapid  course  she  nears, 
How  backward  driven  as  she  ploughs  along, 
The  foaming  waters  high  around  her  bosom  throng. 

Proudly  she  cleaves  the  wave,  while  thundering  by, 
And  leaves  the  forest  echoes  all  awake. 
But  soon,  beyond  some  point  fades  from  the  eye, 
While  swelling  in  her  widely  spreading  wake, 
The  angry  waves  in  wild  commotion  break, 
Until  at  last  they  reach  the  distant  shore, 
Where  to  the  beach  the  murmuring  waters  make 
Their  sullen  plaint ;  and  when  that  feeble  roar 
Has  sunk  to  rest,  they  glide  as  silent  as  before. 


363 


Through  the  long  vista  of  the  coming  years, 
Prospective  thought  dwells  with  enchanted  eye 
On  the  bright  picture  as  it  then  appears, 
Where  smiling  art  with  nature  seems  to  vie, 
As  all  around  the  chequered  landscapes  lie, 
Where  spire-crowned  villages  successive  rise, 
Where  thronging  cities  rear  their  towers  on  high, 
Where  labour  still  his  thousand  weapons  plies, 
And  commerce  brings  her  gifts  from  earth's  remotest  skies. 

But  had  departed  grandeur  pleased  me  best, 
Each  simple  pyramid  that  rears  its  head 
Among  the  boundless  prairies  of  the  West, 
Is  but  a  mighty  mass  of  slumbering  dead, 
The  tomb  of  generations  that  are  fled. 
Their  bones  in  those  dark  mounds  alternate  lay, 
The  flesh  that  wrapped  them  once,  now  forms  their  bed; — 
For  it  hath  long  since  mingled  with  the  clay, 
And  formed  these  massy  heaps  of  dull  unvarying  grey. 

Yes — could  that  senseless  dust  revive  again, 
And  each  dark  mound  pour  forth  its  sleeping  dead, 
To  rove  once  more  across  yon  smiling  plain  ; 
Or  could  the  mighty  mammoth  leave  his  bed, 
Burst  from  the  earth  which  lime  has  o'er  him  spread* 
And  rearing  his  broad  front,  with  thunder  scarred, 
Eye  the  dark  storm  thick  lowering  o'er  his  head, 
With  proud  defiance  or  with  calm  regard, 
Then  might  we  find  our  native  themes  fit  for  the  bard. 

Oh  could  we  draw  the  curtains  of  the  past, 
Uuveil  its  hidden  secrets  to  the  light, 
Sure  fancy  here  might  find  a  rich  repast ; 
Could  we  outstrip  the  years  in  their  swift  flight, 
Gaze  on  the  future  from  time's  farthest  height, 
Aiid  as  the  grand  procession  rolled  along, 
Of  after  ages  sweeping  into  sight, 
See  our  proud  empire  foremost  in  the  throng, 
That  were  a  subject,  worthy  of  the  noblest  song. 


3(34 


But  cease,  my  muse,  '  tis  not  for  thee  to  soar, 
Thy  simple  strains  suit  not  the  mighty  theme, 
Thine  own  sweet  Red-bird  doth  his  wild  notes  pour, 
From  the  green  copses  of  his  native  stream  ; 
But  the  bold  eagle  starting  with  a  scream, 
From  his  wild  cliff,  with  bolder  pinion  soars 
High  in  mid  air,  and  drinks  the  sun's  bright  beam 
Fresh  from  its  source,  pure  as  the  ray  he  pours 
From  cloudless  skies,  on  Greece,  or  fair  Italia's  shores. 

In  October  of  the  last  year,  we  resumed  our  labo- 
rious duties  in  the  seminary.  I  had  my  son  and 
another  young  man  under  a  particular  course  of  per- 
sonal instruction.  I  had  boarders,  a  numerous  school, 
preached  after  a  sort  and  as  I  could,  and  was  trying 
to  digest  this  work.  A  few  weeks  of  this  overplied 
exertion  began  to  make  me  feel  the  illness,  which 
brought  me  to  your  country.  I  struggled  to  vanquish 
it,  by  resolution  and  exercise,  until  the  eighth  of  last 
December  I  was  then  seized  with  a  bilious  com- 
plaint, accompanied  with  spasm,  which  confined  me 
to  my  bed.  All  the  aids  of  medicine  were  unavailing. 
The  middle  of  January,  I  was  just  able,  with  assis- 
tance, to  mount  on  horse  back.  Accompanied  by  my 
friend,  Judge  Bullard,  of  whom  you  have  so  often 
heard  me  speak,  I  commenced  a  journey  to  Natchito- 
ches and  the  interior  beyond  for  my  health.  We  as- 
cended the  Bayou  Rapide,  and  traversed  its  lines  of 
beautiful  plantations.  At  the  head  of  the  Bayou,  and 
twenty-five  miles  from  Alexandria,  we  enter  the  pine 
woods.  At  the  ferry  of  the  river  Aux  Canes,  Red 
River  is  divided  into  three  parallel  rivers,  each  possess- 
ing their  tiers  of  cotton  plantations.  Thence  by 
pleasant  houses,  and  rich  plantations  adjoining  each 
other,  and  through  a  charming  country,  we  passed  to 


365 


Natchitoches.  The  weather  was  delightful.  The 
river  was  fringed  with  clover.  Flocks  of  beautiful 
birds  were  seated  on  the  weeds  that  had  been  seared 
by  the  frost,  and  were  gathering  the  seeds.  But  for 
my  extreme  illness  I  should  have  enjoyed  this  pleas- 
ant ride,  as  I  always  do  the  view  of  novel  scenery, 
and  the  richness  of  nature.  I  had  occasion  again  to 
remark  the  hospitality  of  the  French  planters.  We 
were  expected,  and  were  met  by  the  gentleman  at 
whose  house  we  passed  the  first  night.  Had  I  not  al  - 
ready cloyed  you  with  descriptions,  I  would  give  you 
the  picture  of  this  house  and  establishment.  It  was 
surrounded  by  cabins,  in  which  dwelt,  it  may  be,  eigh- 
ty negroes,  pens  in  which  were  some  hundred  of  hogs, 
cattle,  goats,  geese,  little  negroes,  and  some  domesti- 
cated Indians.  Every  thing  in  and  about  the  house 
was  in  perfect  keeping.  We  had  for  supper,  duck- 
pies,  coffee,  and  claret.  In  the  morning  duck-pies, 
milk,  custards,  coffee,  and  claret.  The  owner  accom- 
panied us  some  miles  to  where  he  was  laying  off  a 
new  town,  and  showed  us  a  man  recently  from  Paris, 
who  played  off  surprising  tricks  of  legerdemain.  He 
showed  us,  apparently  with  no  little  pride,  a  dancing 
hall,  ornamented  in  ancient  French  style,  with  drag- 
ons, coarse  paintings,  hangings  of  different  colours, 
rendered  more  gay  with  the  beautiful  plumage  of  some 
of  their  birds.  Wherever  we  called,  the  opulent  plan- 
ters vied  in  attention  to  us. 

Natchitoches  is  a  very  ancient  town,  settled,  I  be- 
lieve, originally  by  Spaniards  from  the  interna!  prov- 
inces. It  is  said  to  be  more  ancient  in  its  origin  than 
Philadelphia.  The  scenery  about  the  town  is  strik- 
ingly pleasant.  The  village  is  compact,  larger  than 
Alexandria,  and  composed  of  Spanish,  French,  and 


366 


American  houses,  and  a  population  composed  of  these 
races  together,  with  a  considerable  mixture  of  Indian 
blood.    There  are  many  respectable  families  here,  and 
a  weekly  newspaper  in  French  and  English.  From 
its  position,  this  must  be  a  great  inland  town.    At  the 
head  of  steam -boat  navigation,  the  last  town  westward 
towards  the  Spanish  frontier,  and  on  the  great  road  to 
that  country  and  to  Mexico,  it  has  already  a  profitable 
trade  with  that  country.    The  Spanish  come  there  for 
their  supplies,  as  far  as  from  the  Rio  del  Norte.  They 
pay  in  bars  of  silver  and  mules.    I  have  seen  droves 
pass  of  four  hundred  horses  and  mules.    The  relations 
of  this  place  with  the  interior  of  the  state,  and  of  New 
Spain,  must  necessarily  be  extended,  and  this  must  ul- 
timately become  a  place  of  great  trade.    Being,  as  they 
phrase  it,  the  "  jumping  off  place,"  it  is  necessarily  the 
resort  of  desperate,  wicked,  and  strange  creatures, 
who  wish  to  fly  away  from  poverty,   infamy,  and 
the  laws,  and  those  who  have  one,  from  conscience. 
If  I  were  to  enter  into  any  kind  of  detail  of  the  sin- 
gular scenes,  that  have  been  witnessed  here,  under  the 
different  regimes,  Spanish,  French,  and  American,  in 
its  different  stages  of  a  pastoral,  hunting,  and  com- 
mercial existence ;  and  from  the  period  when  its  navi- 
gation was  conducted  in  canoes,  hollowed  from  trees,  to 
the  stately  steam-boat ;  if  I  could  describe  its  Indian 
powwows,  its  Spanish  fandangos,  its  French  balls,  and 
its  American  frolics,  the    different  epaulets  of  the 
Spanish,  French,  and  American    officers,    and  the 
character,  costume,  and  deportment  of  the  mottled 
damsels  that  attended  them,  I  must  be  the  "  great 
Unknown  55  to  do  it,  and  1  must  have  ten  volumes  for 
eibovv.    Pity,  that  all  this  interesting  matter  should 
be  lost,  for  want  of  an  historian.    I  wandered  to  its 


367 


ancient  grave-yard,  and  experienced  indescribable 
emotions,  in  trying  to  retrace  mouldering  monuments, 
where  the  inscriptions  were  originally  coarse,  and  are 
now  illegible,  where  Spanish,  French,  Americans,  In- 
dians, Catholics  and  Protestants  lie  in  mingled  confu- 
sion. 

I  passed  two  weeks  here,  receiving  daily  invita- 
tions to  entertainments  by  the  hospitable  citizens  of 
this  place.  The  luxury  of  the  table  is  understood  and 
practised  in  great  perfection.  I  was  charmed  with 
the  singing  and  playing  of  two  young  ladies  in  this 
place,  the  one  Spanish,  the  other  American.  While 
here,  I  witnessed  a  sad  spectacle,  which  left  a  deep  im- 
pression, and  which  I  will  take  leave  to  relate.  A 
French  surgeon,  of  the  name  of  Prevot,  who  was 
said  to  have  received  a  regular  education  to  his  profes- 
sion in  France,  came  here  at  the  age,  probably,  of 
thirty-six.  He  was  arrested,  treated  with  gross  and 
unwarrantable  indignity,  and  brought  to  this  town  for 
commitment  to  jail.  He  was  liberated  on  a  writ  of 
habeas  corpus,  and  conceived  a  deep  purpose  of  re- 
venge towards  the  district  attorney,  who  made  out  the 
instrument  of  his  commitment.  On  a  certain  evening 
he  supped  with  this  gentleman,  and  after  supper  walked 
with  him  apart,  challenged  him,  as  he  said,  and  offered 
him  his  choice  of  weapons.  Mr.  Mills  refused  to  fight 
him,  and,  as  he  avers,  added  the  epithet  menteur,  which 
he  said,  no  Frenchman  could  ever  forgive.  He  drew 
his  dirk,  and  plunged  it  into  the  bosom  of  Mr.  Mills, 
giving  him  a  wound,  of  which  in  a  few  minutes  he  ex- 
pired. Prevot  walked  deliberately  away  to  the  bridge 
that  leads  over  the  river,  and  was  there  arrested.  He 
was  tried,  and  condemned  some  time  in  autumn,  and  had 
been  lying  in  prison  under  sentence  of  death  until  my 


368 


arrival.  Three  days  before  his  execution,  I  called  up- 
on him  in  prison,  and  offered  him  my  services  as  a  min- 
ister. He  inquired  if  I  were  a  Catholic  priest,  inform- 
ing me,  that  if  I  came,  as  he  phrased  it,  with  any  of 
the  mummery  of  confession,  mass,  &c.  he  wished  to 
have  nothing  to  say  to  me.  I  answered,  that  I  was  a 
Protestant.  He  eagerly  rejoined,  "  vous  avez  raison 
done,"  adding,  that  he  should  be  glad  to  see  me. 
He  explained  that  he  had  been  brought  up  in  the 
school  of  Voltaire  and  Delambert,  and  amidst  the 
storms  of  the  revolution  ;  "  a  bad  kind  of  discipline," 
he  rejoined,  "  to  make  a  good  christian."  He  averred, 
that  he  did  not  repent  of  his  murder,  and  that  un- 
der similar  circumstances  he  should  repeat  the  act.  I 
visited  him  repeatedly,  and  still  found  him  in  the  same 
frame  of  mind.  He  requested  me  to  attend  him  to  the 
gallows.  He  was  executed  half  a  mile  from  the  prison, 
in  the  pine  woods.  A  cart  with  a  coffin  was  brought 
to  the  prison,  and  in  the  midst  of  a  vast  concourse,  the 
poor  w  retch,  after  a  long  confinement  in  a  dark  prison, 
was  brought  forth  to  die.  He  had  a  fine  countenance, 
was  pale  and  emaciated,  and  was  supposed  to  be  still 
under  the  influence  of  arsenic,  by  which  he  had  attempt- 
ed to  poison  himself  the  night  before.  The  view  of 
a  brilliant  sun  seemed  to  have  a  bewildering  effect  up- 
on him.  I  persuaded  him  to  walk  rather  than  ride. 
He  took  my  arm,  and  we  were  a  most  melancholy 
pair,  the  one  as  pale  and  feeble  from  disease  as  the 
other  was  from  long  confinement  and  the  scene  before 
him.  As  we  ascended  the  bluffs  to  the  pine  woods,  he 
bowed  gracefully,  and  with  true  French  ease,  to  all 
that  he  recognised  among  the  assembled  multitudes. 

Arrived  at  the  summit  of  the  bluff,  from  which  the 
pleasant  village  and  a  vast  extent  of  delightful  scenery 


369 


were  visible,  he  gave  a  long  and  fixed  look  at  the  out- 
stretched prospect  before  him.  He  then  looked  up  to 
the  sky  and  the  sun.  He  waved  his  head,  with  a 
kind  of  convulsive  shudder,  as  he  seemed  to  be  taking 
his  final  leave  of  nature.  "  Ah  !"  said  he,  u  je  suis  las 
<3u  coeur  ;  mais  c'est  pour  la  derniere  fois."  6i  I  am  op- 
pressed at  heart,  but  it  is  for  the  last  time  !  "  When 
we  arrived  at  the  gallows,  he  remarked,  that  it  was  a 
spectacle  terrible  to  poor,  feeble  human  nature.  u  But 
I  must  finish,"  said  he,  and  we  helped  him  mount 
the  cart.  He  then  held  out  his  hand  and  said,  66  Adieu, 
ministre  !  v  I  requested  leave  to  pray,  and  prayed,  ac- 
cording to  his  wish,  in  English,  which  he  did  not  under- 
stand. But  he  seemed  to  understand  the  heart-felt 
tone  of  the  prayer.  When  it  was  finished,  he  seemed 
softened,  and  begged  me  to  say  to  the  people,  that  he 
asked  the  mercy  of  God,  and  died  in  charity  with  all 
the  world.  He  then  added,  with  emphatic  earnest- 
ness, "  Adieu,  ministre  !  je  vous  remercie."  He  then 
desired  the  sheriff  to  proceed,  and  remonstrated  against 
longer  delay.  The  moment  before  the  cart  was  driven 
from  under  him,  he  took  out  his  snuff-box,  took  in 
each  nostril  a  large  and  deliberate  pinch  of  snuff,  was 
returning  his  snuff-box  to  his  waistcoat  pocket,  but 
recollecting  that  he  would  have  no  further  use  for  it, 
he  laid  it  down  on  the  coffin,  intimated  that  he  was 
ready,  and  was  launched  into  eternity. 

From  Natchitoches,  in  company  with  Judge  Bui- 
lard,  I  made  an  excursion  towards  the  Spanish  fron- 
tier. I  had  conceived  that  from  Natchitoches  to  the 
Sabine  was  a  continued  and  uninhabited  forest.  But 
our  great  country  is  found  to  have  enlarged  herself  on 
every  side.    To  the  garrison,  Cantonment  Jessup,  and 

thence  to  the  Sabine,  there  is  an  excellent  road ;  the 

47 


370 

miles  are  numbered  and  marked,  and  there  are  houses, 
many  of  them  recent,  at  every  short  interval,  quite  to 
the  Spanish  line.  It  is  an  undulating  country,  chiefly 
pine,  but  with  many  springs,  and  spring  branches,  on 
which  there  are  bottoms  of  second  rate  land.  We 
passed  the  Rio  Hondo,  an  inconsiderable  stream,  be- 
tween which  and  the  Sabine  used  to  be  the  "  debate- 
able  ?;  country  between  the  Spaniards  and  Americans. 
We  went  out  of  the  great  road,  "  camino  real,"  as  it 
used  to  be  called,  to  visit  the  Spanish  village  of 
Adayes.  It  is  a  curious  collection  of  great,  upright 
log  houses,  plastered  with  mud,  and  having  an  appear- 
ance very  different  from  a  French  village  of  the  same 
character.  The  church  was  a  mean  log-building,  with 
four  bells,  some  of  them  cracked,  and  pictures  of 
saints,  that,  from  their  horrible  ugliness,  might  have 
been  taken  for  caricatures.  The  people  had  a  distinct 
physiognomy,  and  as  my  companion  spoke  Spanish 
with  fluency,  I  amused  myself  with  observing  the 
countenance  and  gesture  of  this  simple  race  of  igno- 
rant Creoles,  in  the  eagerness  of  conversation.  They 
do  not  speak  so  rapidly  as  the  French,  have  a  kind  of 
listlessness  of  manner,  and  a  great  deal  of  guttural 
sound  in  their  speech. 

It  is  a  curiosity  to  see  them  make  their  bread.  It 
is  made  from  maize,  that  has  been  boiled  in  weak  lie, 
which  takes  off  the  outer  coat.  The  women  have  a 
couple  of  stones,  the  one  concave,  and  the  other  con- 
vex ;  the  corn  is  placed  in  the  cavity  ;  they  mash 
it,  and  grind  it  to  an  impalpable  paste,  and  work  the 
paste  into  cakes  in  their  hand,  managing  the  whole 
process  and  keeping  time  to  a  certain  tune.  One 
woman  will  in  this  way  grind  and  bake,  so  as  to  keep 
six  men  in  bread  during  their  meal.    These  people 


371 


are  poor,  and  addicted  to  theft,  but  otherwise  simple 
and  amiable  in  their  manners,  and  carry  their  hospi- 
tality to  the  greatest  lengths. 

In  crossing  the  Rio  Hondo  we  were  lost  in  the 
deep  forest.    We  wandered  to  the  right  and  to  the 
left,  until  my  little  strength  was  exhausted,  and  until 
I  was  obliged  to  demand  assistance  in  crossing  the  nu- 
merous branches.    To  make  my  case  worse,  it  began 
to  be  cloudy  and  to  rain.    Weak  as  I  was,  and  no 
settlements  that  we  knew  of  between  us  and  the  Gulf, 
I  began  to  imagine  the  condition  of  an  invalid  like  me 
left  to  perish  in  the  woods.    Fortunately  my  compan- 
ion was  in  perfect  health,  well  mounted,  and  used  to 
the  woods.    After  wandering  some  miles  amidst  the 
branches  and  cane-brake,  we  heard  the  bells  of  cattle, 
and  soon  came  upon  a  Spanish  house,  and  inquired  for 
the  "  camino  real,"  or  king's  road,  that  we  had  left. 
Our  Spaniard  could  point  in  the  direction  ;  but  although 
he  had  been  born  and  reared  to  maturity  within  a  league 
of  the  road,  he  could  give  us  no  measure  of  the  dis- 
tance.   His  most  definite  terms  were,  u  a  little  way," 
and  "  a  great  way."    A  Frenchman  under  the  same 
circumstances  would  have  told  us,  that  the  distance  was 
u  un  pipe  " — one  pipe  ;  for  they  measure  their  distances 
by  the  number  of  pipes  that  they  smoke  in  traversing  it. 

We  were  most  hospitably  welcomed  at  "  Canton- 
ment Jessup,"  a  post  within  twenty-five  miles  of  the 
Sabine,  and  situated  the  farthest  to  the  southwest  of 
any  in  the  United  States.  They  have  very  comfort- 
able quarters,  two  companies  of  soldiers,  and  a  num- 
ber of  very  gentlemanly  officers,  the  whole  under  the 
command  of  Col.  Many.  The  water  from  the 
southern  extremity  of  the  esplanade  falls  into  the  Sa- 
bine, and  from  the  northern,  into  Red  River.    It  is 


372 


of  course  the  highest  point  between  the /two  rivers. 
It  produced  singular  sensations,  to  see  all  the  pomp 
and  circumstance  of  military  parade,  and  to  hear  the 
notes  of  the  drum  and  the  fife,  breaking  the  solitude 
of  the  wilderness  of  the  Sabine.  By  this  garrison 
passes  the  great  road  to  the  crossing  on  the  Sabine. 
Beyond  that  river  the  forest  country  continues  thirty 
miles.  Then  commence  the  vast  prairies,  or  grass 
plains,  that  reach  to  the  Passo  del  Norte.  The  road 
from  the  Sabine  to  Mexico  is  said  to  be  very  good, 
passable  with  carriages,  and  the  worst  part  of  the 
distance,  in  the  valley  of  Mexico,  within  a  short 
distance  of  that  city.  The  passing  is  already  consid- 
erable. Many  of  the  young  men  in  our  region 
have  made  excursions  to  that  city.  It  is  easy  to  see 
that  the  improving  spirit  of  the  age,  even  in  the 
Mexican  country,  will  soon  make  this  a  stage  and  a 
mail  route. 

I  intended  here  to  have  given  you  some  idea  of  the 
adjoining  Spanish  province  of  Texas.  You  are 
aware  of  the  circumstances  that  forbid  the  attempt. 
I  have  collected  some  materials  for  the  purpose.  My 
object  was  to  have  interwoven  a  narrative  of  the  ill- 
fated  expedition  to  that  country,  in  j  811,  in  which 
many  spirited  and  intelligent  young  men  from  the 
United  States  were  engaged.  The  object  was,  under 
a  Spanish  republican  leader,  to  revolutionize  the  in- 
ternal provinces.  By  the  royal  force  under  Col.  Ar- 
redondo  they  were  defeated,  after  they  had  obtained 
many  successes.  Even  the  last  action  the  Americans 
contested  gallantly,  and  would  have  gained  it,  but  for 
the  cowardice  and  treachery  of  their  Spanish  allies. 
Many  were  slain,  and  the  rest  endured  inconceivable 
hardships    in    arriving  at  the  American  frontier. 


373 


Among  the  most  distinguished  men  in  Louisiana,  are 
some  of  the  men  that  escaped  from  this  defeat. 

To  this  I  would  have  added  some  account  of  Col. 
Austin's  settlement  under  the  Spanish  auspices,' on 
the  Brassos  and  the  Colorado.  Many  Americans 
have  emigrated  there.  We  saw  them  marching  in 
shoals  for  that  country,  which  had  become,  like 
"  Boom's  lick  "  of  the  upper  country,  a  kind  of  cen- 
tral point  of  union.  Land  is  obtained  for  one  "  bit," 
or  twelve  and  an  half  cents  an  acre.  There  is  some 
timbered  and  bottom  land  ;  but  it  is  principally  prairie. 
The  country  is  represented  as  fine  for  corn,  cotton, 
and  the  sugar  cane.  The  soil  is  fertile  and  the 
climate  genial  and  salubrious.  But  all  these  de- 
tails must  be  reserved  for  another  time,  and  a  firm- 
er hand. 

I  returned  to  Natchitoches,  and  found  myself  una- 
ble to  descend  to  Alexandria  on  horse-back.  I  sent 
down  my  horse  by  land,  took  a  steam-boat,  and  reach- 
ed my  family,  having  experienced  very  little  benefit 
from  my  long  excursion.  My  illness  continued,  and 
as  the  sultry  weather '  commenced  the  first  of  March, 
my  strength  visibly  declined.  The  sun  became  too 
intense  for  riding  on  horse- back.  It  seemed  to  be  ad- 
mitted that  medicine  was  of  no  avail.  In  these  re- 
gions, the  last  resort  in  such  cases  is  a  journey,  or  a 
voyage  to  the  North.  My  physician,  my  friends, 
my  family,  united  in  representing  this  as  the  only  re- 
maining expedient  for  me.  To  an  exhausted  invalid, 
who  had  been  for  years  sustained  by  the  most  assid- 
uous nursing  and  care,  it  seemed  a  formidable  exper- 
iment to  commit,  myself  to  such  a  great  journey,  and 
to  separate  myself  from  every  friend. 


374 


You  can  readily  imagine  all  the  struggles  of  my 
mind  under  these  circumstances.  You  know  enough 
of  my  habits  to  be  aware  how  often,  in  my  days  of 
distress  and  my  nights  of  watching,  I  laid  my  case 
before  Him,  who  alone  can  help  ;  how  often,  in  the  vi- 
brations of  feeling,  different  determinations  would  al- 
ternately have  the  mastery.  Sometimes  I  felt  en- 
couraged by  the  numerous  records  of  cases,  where  in 
disease  as  inveterate  as  mine,  the  sufferer  had  taken 
this  journey  and  found  relief.  In  other  frames  it 
seemed  the  only  eligible  course  to  remain,  and  if  it 
were  so  to  be,  to  die  in  the  bosom  of  my  family.  To 
one  point  it  is  here  a  duty  due  to  gratitude  to  testify 
the  unwearied  kindness  and  attentions  of  my  friends. 
A  carriage,  a  horse,  a  servant,  all  the  little  delicacies 
so  necessary  to  the  fastidious  appetite  of  an  invalid, 
were  constantly  furnished  me  by  my  friends.  Kind- 
nesses of  every  sort  may  be  rendered,  and  the  heart 
may  swell  with  grateful  thoughts,  which  cannot 
clothe  themselves  in  words,  and  yet  disease  go  steadi- 
ly on.  So  it  was  with  me.  I  saw  that  I  could  not 
long  survive  in  that  region.  I  determined  to  disen- 
gage myself  from  my  family,  cast  myself  on  the  care  of 
God,  and  commence  a  journey  of  twenty-five  hundred 
miles  for  my  native  land,  looking  forward  as  the  most 
fortunate  consummation,  that  I  had  a  right  to  hope, 
to  revisit  the  scenes  and  the  friends  of  my  first  years, 
and  after  so  much  wandering  and  toil,  to  be  buried  by 
the  "  graves  of  my  father  and  my  mother." 

I  commenced  this  journey  Monday  the  fourth  day 
of  April  last.  It  is  unnecessary  for  me  to  speak  of  the 
forced  cheerfulness  of  my  family  and  my  friends,  the 
presages  of  people,  who  talked  with  confidence  in 
their  words  to  me,  and  who  instantly  used  a  different 


375 


language  among  themselves.  Friendship  and  kind- 
ness could  do  nothing  for  me  that  was  not  done.  A 
kind  neighbour  was  to  accompany  me  as  far  as  Balti- 
more. The  morning  sun  shone  brightly.  The  bell 
had  struck  for  calling  together  the  pupils  in  the  sem- 
inary. They  bade  me  farewell  in  the  court-yard.  My 
family  accompanied  me  to  the  steps.  Perhaps  the 
hardest  parting  of  the  whole  was  with  a  little  fellow 
between  three  and  four,  with  a  dark  Spanish  counte- 
nance, but  a  brilliant  eye,  that  easily  kindles  with  joy 
or  is  suffused  with  a  tear,  according  to  the  passing 
emotion.  He  is  our  Joseph,  born  to  us  after  an  inter- 
val of  fourteen  years,  except  the  infant  which  we 
lost  on  the  Mississippi.  He  was  marching  in  the 
court-yard  with  his  military  hat  and  feather,  clad  in  a 
new  suit,  and  with  a  tin  sword,  given  to  keep  him  away 
from  this  painful  business  of  parting.  But  he  had 
come,  and  saw  that  there  was  restrained  emotion,  and 
uncommon  countenances.  He  came  up  to  me  and 
asked,  why  mama  and  sister  looked  so  strange.  I 
kissed  him,  not  daring  even  to  turn  back,  or  cast 
one  "  longing,  lingering  look  behind and  sustain- 
ed by  my  two  sons,  went  on  board  the  steam-boat 
Natchitoches,  bound  for  Natchez,  parted  from  my 
sons,  took  my  birth,  heard  the  parting  gun  fired  on 
the  bowT,  and  instantly  felt,  that  we  were  descending 
the  river. 

On  the  way  to  Natchez  we  had  a  violent  gust  and 
thunder  storm  at  midnight.  Our  boat  was  leaky, 
crowded  with  passengers,  and  excessively  uncomfort- 
able. My  fellow  passengers,  during  the  commotion  of 
the  elements,  gambled,  were  some  of  them  very  drunk, 
and  most  of  them  noisy,  and  it  seemed  to  me,  that 
my  hour  was  come.    I  was  sustained  to  Natchez,  and 


376 

here  received  great  kindness,  and  was  visited  by  two 
of  the  respectable  physicians  of  that  place,  who  fur- 
nished me  such  medicines,  and  gave  me  such  counsel, 
as  my  case  seemed  to  require.  The  day  after  my  ar- 
rival here,  I  took  passage  on  board  the  steam-boat 
Grecian  for  Louisville.  She  was  a  fine,  roomy  boat, 
and  carried,  it  was  said,  two  hundred  and  fifty  pas- 
sengers. But  most  of  them  were  deck  passengers, 
and  the  cabin  was  not  crowded.  I  found  a  pleasant 
company  on  board,  and  every  attention  that  I  could 
desire.  Our  boat  had  high  power,  and  was  capable  of 
making  rapid  headway  against  the  headiong  current. 
The  trees  were  in  full  foliage.  We  ran  for  the  most 
part  so  as  to  graze  the  margin  of  willows,  and  were 
continually  raking  the  tender  branches  and  flowers  on 
to  our  guards.  Had  I  possessed  the  least  elasticity, 
or  capacity  for  cheerfulness,  this  passage  under  such 
pleasant  circumstances,  and  at  this  delightful  season, 
would  have  cheered  me.  There  were  some  glori- 
ous mornings,  when  we  saw  the  river  studded  with 
ascending  and  descending  boats,  heard  the  bugle  note, 
the  cheerfulness  of  life  on  the  shore,  and  inhaled  the 
odours  of  the  blossoming  forest ;  such  mornings  as 
won  id  almost  create  a  "  soul  beneath  the  ribs  of 
death."  But  a  languid  and  sinking  nature  passes,  as 
1  did,  through  all  these  circumstances  of  joy,  incapa- 
ble of  seeing  or  feeling  them.  Little  of  incident  oc- 
curred on  this  passage.  The  noisy  and  thoughtless 
mirth  of  healthy  and  happy  people,  crowded  together 
in  such  a  place,  you  will  readily  conceive  would  strike 
a  key,  not  at  all  in  unison  with  my  feelings.  Impa- 
tience induced  me  in  the  morning  to  wish  for  evening, 
and  in  the  evening  for  morning,  and  when  I  laid  my- 
self in  my  solitary  birth,  it  was  my  custom,  after  my 


377 


better  thoughts  had  communed  with  God,  to  take  a 
mental  leave  of  my  family  and  the  world,  for  in  the 
evening  it  often  seemed  to  me  doubtful  if  I  should  sur- 
vive until  the  morning.  On  the  eleventh  we  passed 
the  place  where  our  babe  lies  buried,  and  at  midnight 
of  the  fourteenth,  we  arrived  at  Louisville.  The  trip 
which  we  had  now  performed  in  ten  days,  lying  by 
two  nights  of  those  days  for  fog,  used  formerly  to  oc- 
cupy twenty-five  days  of  the  first  steam-boats  that 
ascended  the  river.  We  had  come  on  an  average 
more  than  an  hundred  miles  a  day,  against  the  whole 
weight  of  the  Mississippi  current.  I  had  remarked, 
as  soon  as  we  began  to  pass  the  high  lands  on  the 
Ohio,  the  wonderful  change,  which  ten  years  had 
wrought  in  that  region.  The  log-houses  were  gone, 
and  replaced  by  houses  of  brick.  The  orchards, 
which  were  just  planted  when  I  descended  the  Ohio, 
had  become  thrifty  trees  of  considerable  size,  and  were 
now  white  with  blossoms.  Passing  steam-boats,  thriv- 
ing villages,  bustle  and  business  had  taken  place  of 
the  solitude  and  stillness  of  the  same  places  at  the  for- 
mer period.  Louisville  had  grown  to  be  a  fine  town. 
The  ware-houses,  the  stores,  the  smell  at  the  landing- 
even,  the  ship-yards,  all  indicated  the  mercantile  char- 
acter, the  great  and  growing  importance  of  the  place. 
The  Ohio  was  too  low  for  the  Spartan  to  proceed 
over  the  falls.  We  took  carriages,  went  round  the  falls, 
and  embarked  on  board  the  Pike,  a  beautiful  and 
swift  steam-boat,  bound  to  Cincinnati.  The  distance 
is  one  hundred  and  fifty  miles,  and  we  arrived  there 
against  the  current  of  the  Ohio  in  something  less  than 
a  day. 

I  wTas  still  more  struck  with  the  changes  at  Cincin- 
nati, than  at  Louisville.    A  number  of  steam-boats 
48 


378 


were  building  here.  I  went  on  board  the  Belvidere, 
a  most  beautiful  boat,  which  had  just  been  completed. 
We  are  certainly  making  great  strides  in  luxury. 
Nothing  could  evidence  this  more  strikingly  than  to 
see  such  a  boat,  so  fitted  up,  and  with  so  much  splen- 
dour, and  in  the  ladies'  cabin  a  fine  piano,  and  all  this 
in  the  harbour  of  a  town  at  such  a  distance  from  the 
sea,  and  as  yet  scarcely  forty  years  old.  In  the  morn- 
ing after  my  arrival,  I  was  just  able  to  make  my 
way  to  the  market,  and  the  abundance,  bustle,  and 
cheerfulness  of  the  spectacle  amused  me  for  a  mo- 
ment. The  increase  of  this  place  is  wonderful.  It 
is  supposed  now  to  number  above  sixteen-thousand  in- 
habitants. 

I  experienced  here  the  kindest  attentions  of  my  rel- 
atives and  friends,  for  I  have  relatives  here.  Dr.  D., 
one  of  the  respectable  physicians  of  this  place,  visited 
me,  and  gave  me  medicine  and  counsel.  I  staid  here 
two  days,  and  then  embarked  on  board  the  Ohio,  an 
ordinary  steam-boat,  but  the  only  one  that  in  the 
present  low  stage  of  the  water  coula  mount  to  Wheel- 
ing. The  Pike  had  been  full  of  passengers.  The 
Ohio  was  crowded  to  overflowing.  In  our  country  at 
this  time,  the  community  seems  to  be  gathered  into 
steam-boats  and  stages.  On  my  passage  to  Wheeling, 
my  complaint  took  a  new  form,  which  weakened  me 
extremely.  But  through  the  sustaining  goodness  of 
God,  I  arrived  at  that  place.  Could  I  have  had  cheer- 
fulness to  be  capable  of  reflecting,  I  should  have  found 
sufficient  food  for  thought,  in  contemplating  at  every 
step  as  I  advanced,  the  improvement  on  the  Ohio. 
Cesar  said,  that  he  found  Rome  of  brick,  and  left  it 
of  marble.  I  found  the  Ohio,  ten  years  before,  with 
log-houses,  and  wooden  benches.     There  were  now 


S79 


brick  houses,  ornamented  court-yards,  trellis-wrought 
summer-houses,  fruit-gardens,  and  within,  carpets, 
side-boards,  and  sofas.  Wheeling,  when  I  descended, 
was  a  smoky,  mis-shapen  village.  When  I  returned, 
there  were  lines  of  massive  brick  buildings,  and  in  the 
hotel  where  I  lodged  was  an  establishment  on  a  footing 
with  the  first  class  of  Atlantic  houses  of  the  same 
kind.  Every  thing  denoted  opulence,  and  the  most 
careful  attention  to  convenience  and  comfort.  There 
were  other  establishments,  equally  large  and  expen- 
sive. I  might  have  foreseen  all  this,  but  still  it  struck 
me  with  somewhat  the  same  surprize,  as  a  rustic 
reared  in  the  country,  would  feel  in  being  sud- 
denly transported  to  the  centre  of  a  city.  I  reposed 
here  one  day.  There  were  a  great  number  of  pas- 
sengers in  the  steam-boat  Ohio,  who  were  bound  over 
the  mountains.  All  the  carriages,  beside  the  mail 
coaches,  were  put  in  requisition.  We  made  up  a  pri- 
vate party,  and  took  a  carriage  to  go  the  first  day  as 
far  as  Washington.  It  was  my  first  experiment  of  my 
capacity  for  travelling  by  land. 

The  great  national  road  from  the  Ohio  to  Balti- 
more commences  here.  It  is  one  of  the  noblest  mon- 
uments of  the  power  and  munificence  of  our  govern- 
ment. To  understand  and  appreciate  the  grandeur 
and  the  utility  of  this  work,  one  must  have  contem- 
plated the  Allegany  ridges  and  cliffs,  from  one  hun- 
dred and  fifty  to  two  hundred  miles  in  extent,  and  must 
have  crossed  these  mountains  to  Pittsburg,  as  I  did, 
ten  years  before.  There  are  simple,  but  noble  free- 
stone bridges  over  Wheeling  creek,  which  meanders 
across  the  direction  of  the  road,  a  great  number  of 
times.  Ten  miles  from  Wheeling,  there  is  a  massive 
stone  monument  to  Mr.  Clay,  considered  here  as  the 


380 


projector,  and  the  efficient  patron  of  this  road.  It  is 
smooth  and  well  railed,  where  the  sides  are  precipi- 
tous. The  angles  of  ascent  are  no  where  sharp. 
Every  thing  appertaining  to  the  road  is  in  that  style  of 
simple  and  durable  grandeur,  that  begins  to  be  the 
characteristic  mark  of  our  public  works. 

At  Washington  I  was  so  exhausted,  as  to  be  una- 
ble to  proceed.  Here  I  took  medicine  and  applied  a 
large  blister,  rather  an  unpleasant  application  for  a 
sick  man,  jolting  up  and  down  mountains  in  a  stage. 

Washington  is  a  large  and  pleasant  village  in  Penn- 
sylvania, and  the  seat  of  a  college  which  promises  to  be 
useful  to  literature.    It  would  be  repetition  to  say, 
that  I  found  great  kindness  and  attention  during  the 
two  days  that  I  spent  here.    Our  road  led  us  through 
Brownsville,   formerly  Red-stone.     Here   the  road 
crosses  the  Monongahela,  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  in 
width.     There  is  a  fine  bridge  over  the  river ;  but 
our  driver,  to  avoid  the  toll,  chose  to  ford  it,  to  the 
manifest  danger  of  having  carriage  and  horses  carried 
down  the  stream.    Here  you  see  again  the  imperish- 
able stone  houses,  and  barns  of  Pennsylvania.  The 
tavern  at  which  we  stopped  was  an  excellent  house, 
and  in  high  order.    Indeed  this  town  of  Brownsville, 
by  no  means  one  of  the  most  considerable  in  this  re- 
gion, would  surprise  an  Atlantic  inhabitant,  who  has 
been  accustomed  to  associate  with  this  country  the 
ideas  of  rudeness  and  poverty.    The  country  is  in  high 
cultivation,  and  the  fields  and  orchards  are  delightful. 
Beyond  this  place  we  soon  begin  to  ascend  the  moun- 
tains.   We  have  fine  taverns,  and  good  entertainment 
all  the  way  over  the  mountains.     We  were  driven 
down  the  most  considerable  of  them,  a  distance  of 
between  four  and  five  miles,  at  a  furious  rate,  and  at 


381 


midnight,  and  just  on  the  verge  of  precipices,  that  it 
would  be  fearful  to  look  down  upon  at  mid-day.  I 
suffered  more  than  I  can  describe-*  from  weakness  and 
exhaustion.  We  crossed  the  Potomac,  staid  a  night 
at  Frederick,  and  I  was  cheered  at  last  w  ith  a  distant 
view  of  the  Atlantic  regions.  There  are  few  pleas- 
anter  tracts  in  the  United  States,  than  the  charming 
and  fertile  valley  of  Conecocheague  in  Maryland. 
Surveyors  and  engineers  were  surveying  this  rout, 
with  a  view  to  locating  the  position  of  a  canal,  to 
unite  the  tide  waters  of  Virginia  with  the  Ohio.  I 
found  Hagarstown  a  much  larger  and  pleasanter  place 
than  I  had  anticipated.  1  arrived  safely  at  Baltimore, 
though  extremely  exhausted  in  body  and  mind.  At 
Philadelphia  I  staid  some  days,  experiencing  many- 
kindnesses  from  the  people  to  whom  I  was  intro- 
duced. Here  I  consulted  the  benevolent  and  celebrat- 
ed Dr.  Physic,  the  u  Magnus  Apollo  "  of  the  Phila- 
delphians.  In  passing  from  Baltimore  to  New  York, 
a  track  too  beaten  for  me  to  hazard  any  remarks  upon, 
the  only  subject  that  occurs  to  me  worthy  of  reflection 
is  the  astonishing  facilities  afforded  to  travellers  for 
passing  rapidly.  On  this  route,  as  on  the  Ohio,  the 
steam-boats,  the  stages,  the  hotels,  were  crowded- 
The  community  seemed  to  be  all  passing  on  the  road. 
The  same  reflection  forced  itself  upon  me  on  my  pas- 
sage to  Boston  by  the  way  of  Providence. 

Having  arrived  in  Boston  and  met  some  friends, 
who  are  very  dear  to  me,,  and  from  whom  I  part- 
ed between  ten  and  eleven  years  before,  as  I  departed 
for  the  West,  I  could  see  by  the  very  attempt  to  sup- 
press surprize  and  exclamation,  how  time  and  disease 
had  changed  my  countenance.  We  become  so  gradu- 
ally accustomed  to  the  changes  which  such  causes  op 


382 


erate  upon  us,  as  not,  of  ourselves,  to  be  conscious 
how  great  they  are.  But  they  are  immediately  and 
painfully  obvious  to  him,  who  sees  the  alteration  of 
ten  years  fall  upou  his  eye  at  a  single  glance.  A  few 
hours  brought  me  to  you,  my  dear  friend,  and  having 
accomplished  the  object  of  my  prayers,  having  seen 
again  my  earliest  and  most  constant  friend,  I  felt  in 
that  joyful  hour  of  meeting,  as  though,  could  I  have 
had  my  family  with  me,  miserable  as  my  health  was, 
I  should  have  been  the  happiest  of  ihe  happy.  But 
at  the  end  of  this  long  pilgrimage,  with  more  than  two 
thousand  miles  interposed  between  me  and  my  family, 
your  countenance,  and  that  of  my  other  friends,  told 
me  but  too  plainly,  that  these  halcyon  hours  were 
not  expected  to  be  long  repeated.  There  are  no  con- 
stant things  here,  but  disappointments  and  tears. 
Happy  for  us,  that  there  remaineth  a  rest  for  the  peo- 
ple of  God. 


Cincinnati,  Sept.  1825. 

You  requested  me,  at  parting,  to  give  you  my  views 
of  the  changes  in  the  moral  and  physical  aspect  of 
New  England,  during  the  last  ten  years,  as  they 
struck  me  in  returning  to  that  country.  The  survey 
which  I  took  of  it,  during  the  summer,  was  extensive 
though  cursory,  and  probably  the  view  will  be  the 
discoloured  one,  which  resulted  from  sickly  and  jaun- 
diced vision.  It  shall  at  least  have  the  merit  of  brevi- 
ty. I  passed  from  Providence,  by  the  way  of  Paw- 
tucket,  to  Boston.    I  inquired  respecting  the  huge 


383 


buildings  which  rose  around  me  in  the  distance,  A 
stranger,  who  had  heard  of  the  earnestness  and  as- 
perity of  your  religious  investigations,  might  have 
deemed,  that  you  had  at  last  invented  a  new  worship, 
and  that  these  buildings  were  the  temples.  And  so  in 
truth  I  found  it,  the  worship  of  the  golden  shrine, 
and  that  the  numberless  craftsmen,  who  wrought  for 
"  Diana  of  the  Ephesians,"  were  mechanicians  and 
manufacturers. 

I  remember  that  in  conversing  upon  this  subject, 
we  thought  alike  upon  the  tendency  of  this  system  of 
manufactures,  which  is  destined  to  produce  so  great  a 
change  in  your  country.  Hundreds  of  children  of 
both  sexes  are  reared  together,  amidst  the  incessant 
and  bewildering  clatter  and  whirl  of  machinery.  They 
breathe  a  heated  and  an  unnatural  air,  an  atmosphere,  if 
I  may  so  say,  of  cotton.  Their  minds  are  unoccupied. 
But  there  is  morbid  excitement  for  the  passions,  that 
keeps  pace  with  the  activity  of  the  fingers.  We  are  told 
that  the  inhabitants  of  the  great  manufacturing  estab- 
lishments abroad  are  generally  depraved.  Notwith- 
standing all  the  strict,  moral,  and  benevolent  provis- 
ions to  counteract  this  state  of  things  in  our  country, 
we  much  fear  that  the  same  result  will  take  place 
here. 

With  Mr.  Jefferson,  we  think  highly  of  the  moral 
influence  of  agriculture,  of  labouring  God's  earth,  and 
breathing  His  free  air  as  a  freehold  cultivator.  In 
"  green  pastures,"  beside  "  cool  streams/'  and  in  the 
solitude  of  nature,  salutary  thoughts  and  feelings  are 
naturally  inspired.  Healthful  mental  developement 
results  from  that  vigorous  exercise  of  the  frame,  that 
supply  of  every  excitement  to  virtuous  thinking, 
and  that  removal  from  temptation,  which  are  found  in 


384 


such  pursuits.  It  was  in  such  schools  that  the  past 
and  passing  generation  was  reared.  The  men  of  those 
days  grew  up  in  turning  the  glebe.  The  daughters 
of  that  day  had  not  formed  taper  fingers,  blanched 
cheeks  and  slender  forms  in  walking  minuets  in  the 
aisles  of  cotton  factories,  and  amidst  the  dizzying  whirl 
of  a  thousand  wheels.  I  discerned  a  new,  numerous, 
and  evidently  distinct  mass  of  population,  spread  over 
the  face  of  New  England.  In  all  directions,  the  num- 
ber of  stage  coaches  is  five  times  multiplied,  and  they 
are  full  of  young  men  and  women,  belonging  to  these 
establishments,  passing  to  and  fro.  Not  only  do 
we  see  detached  factories,  but  towns,  like  Jonah's 
gourd,  have  sprung  up  in  a  night.  May  the  ultimate 
fruit  of  all  this  be  better  than  our  fears,  and  the  omen 
happy !  Be  the  tendency  of  this  order  of  things  what 
it  may  in  other  respects,  one  obvious  good  grows  out 
of  it :  the  ties  of  the  cradle,  of  the  father's  house, 
and  of  early  life,  are  not  rudely  broken  off.  The  sur- 
plus population  accumulates  around  the  place  of  their 
birth,  and  the  graves  of  their  fathers.  The  dense- 
ness  of  the  population,  the  consequent  improvement 
and  embellishment,  the  spirit-stirring  bustle  and  life 
are  delightful  accompaniments. 

Of  all  the  cities  that  I  have  seen,  the  greatest 
change  seems  to  have  taken  place,  where  least  has 
been  said  of  it,  in  Boston.  It  has  not,  indeed,  extend- 
ed its  area,  like  New  York,  nor  has  it,  like  Cincin- 
nati, sprung  up,  de  novo.  But  its  lofty  houses  are 
reared  in  the  air.  Its  churches,  and  many  of  its  pri- 
vate mansions,  present  the  imposing  front  and  the 
massive  columns  of  your  beautiful  and  everlasting 
granite.  They  have  an  air  of  solidity  and  grandeur 
which  I  felt,  if  I  cannot  describe.    Marble  may  be  im- 


385 


itated,  and  has,  besides,  a  semblance  of  fragility  in  its 
texture.  But  this  article  is  the  right  material,  with 
which  to  form  a  beautiful  and  an  "  eternal  "  city.  In 
Boston,  too,  there  seems  a  greater  concentration  of 
bustle,  business,  and  life,  than  in  any  other  city. 
There  is  an  air  of  nobleness  in  the  recent  erections 
there,  which  I  have  not  seen  elsewhere.  Other  towns 
have  outstripped  it  in  extent  and  population ;  but  in 
wealth,  in  enterprise,  in  the  grandeur  of  its  mansions 
and  churches,  it  seems  to  me  still  to  retain  its  proud 
preeminence.  In  hospitality,  in  that  order  of  things, 
which  from  the  beginning  has  made  it  the  paradise  of 
ministers,  and  more  than  all  in  the  exercise  of  those 
noble  charities,  in  which,  envied  as  it  is  at  the  South, 
it  is  admitted  to  have  no  compeer,  its  ascendency  is 
still  indisputable.  General  intelligence  and  taste  have 
more  than  kept  pace  with  its  improvement  in  other 
respects.  This  is  not  inferred  from  the  number  of  pa- 
pers, and  literary  productions,  which,  I  suppose,  have 
quadrupled  in  ten  years,  but  from  the  higher  order  of 
thought,  reasoning,  and  style,  that  pervade  those  works. 
Fine  writing  may  be  found  in  every  paper.  The 
cumbrous  inanity,  or  the  tiresome  insipidity,  that  used 
to  fill  the  papers,  has  disappeared.  That  perverse  and 
wicked,  but  witty  paper,  the  66  Galaxy,"  furnishes  con- 
tinual and  brilliant  samples  of  shrewdness,  sarcasm, 
and,  when  it  chooses,  of  good  sense,  upon  all  its  sub- 
jects of  discussion.  The  "  Sufferings  of  the  Country 
Schoolmaster,"  which  we  read  together  in  that  paper, 
we  deemed,  you  remember,  at  the  time  of  reading,  to 
be  a  work  of  unrivalled  humour  in  its  kind.  The  re- 
gion where  the  columns  of  papers  can  be  filled  with 
productions  of  that  order,  and  this  by  young  men,  un- 
49 


386 

known,  and  44  fools  to  fame,"  must  be  wonderfully 
prolific  in  intellect.  Boston,  out  of  question,  is  the 
American  Athens. 

When  I  left  you,  the  old  brass  knocker  still  rung 
for  admission  to  the  greater  part  of  the  best  houses. 
The  door-bell  was  considered  an  aristocratic  and  En- 
glish innovation.  What  would  have  been  thought  in 
that  day,  of  sea-captains,  mechanics,  and  the  middling 
classes  of  society,  leaving  cards,  instead  of  making  a 
call  ?  Many  of  the  observances  that  seem  now  per- 
manently interwoven  with  the  forms  of  society,  are 
undoubtedly  improvements.  There  is  more  ease, 
more  grace,  more  comfort,  and  a  nobler  air  in  the 
drawing-room,  and  at  the  table.  And  as  ah  the  peo- 
ple, that  can  afford  to  travel,  are  on  the  road,  the  ca- 
nal, and  the  steam-boat,  and  in  the  fashionable  resorts ; 
as  we  have  carried  the  desire  of  travelling  to  a  pas- 
sion and  a  fever,  it  happens  that  models  of  grace  and 
propriety  are  soon  copied,  and  that  these  copies  are 
again  multiplied  a  thousand  fold  in  every  direction. 
You  look  in  vain  in  these  crowded  resorts,  for  rude- 
ness, affectation,  and  ignorance.  Every  body  seems 
to  have  caught  the  forms  of  society.  Impertinent, 
quarrelsome,  and  noisy  men,  drunkards  and  ruffians, 
that  used  to  form  such  a  considerable  portion  of  the 
mass  in  public  meetings,  seem  to  be  an  extinct  gen- 
eration. On  all  the  great  roads  and  places  of  public 
meeting,  the  aspect  of  every  thing  is  politeness  and 
peace. 

Nothing  struck  me  more,  than  the  obvious  march  of 
this  order  of  things  in  the  country.  You  will  hardly 
meet  with  a  farmer's  daughter,  who  cannot  keep  up  a 
sustained  conversation,  in  good  set  phrase,  upon  any 


387 


given  subject.  We  know  a  town,  almost  in  sight  of 
the  smoke  of  Boston,  which  in  the  days  of  our  hoy- 
hood  was  one  of  the  "  dark  corners."  They  relate, 
that,  when  we  were  children,  a  coach  passed  through 
a  by-place  in  this  town.  A  daughter  asked  her  moth- 
er the  name  of  the  fine  carriage  that  was  passing. 
The  old  lady,  who  had  previously  made  the  same  in- 
quiry, and  had  not  rightly  caught  the  word,  told  her 
daughter  that  the  thing,  which  was  passing,  was  a 
church.  In  that  same  town,  where  at  that  time  a 
coach  was  so  rare  an  object,  as  to  be  mistaken  for  a 
church,  light  is  now  let  in  upon  the  dark  places,  by 
turnpikes,  a  number  of  daily  mail-coaches,  and  the 
continual  passing  of  private  carriages.  All  the  equip- 
ments of  fine  ladies  and  beaux  have  found  their  way 
there.  It  may  be  only  a  fancy  in  me  ;  but  1  looked 
in  vain  for  the  plump  form,  the  round,  ruddy,  pretty, 
but  unthinking  Saxon  face  of  the  farmers'  daughters 
of  other  days.  These  faces  are  now  perpetuated  only 
on  the  old  clocks  ;  and  in  lieu  of  them  we  have  in- 
sect forms,  long  and  pale  visages,  covered  with  ca- 
lash bonnets,  a  race  apparently  an  importation  from 
Italy. 

Soon  after  my  return,  I  made  a  pilgrimage  to  the 
town,  of  which,  for  fourteen  years  of  the  morning 
and  prime  of  my  life,  I  was  the  minister.  I  dare  not 
trust  my  feelings  in  details  of  a  journey,  which,  in 
every  point  of  view,  must  have  been  to  such  a  travel- 
ler so  full  of  harrowing  interest.  There  I  began  my 
active  career.  There  1  had  preached,  visited  the 
sick,  and  followed  the  dead  to  their  last  home,  and 
for  so  many  years  performed  in  peace  and  privacy 
the  interesting  functions  of  a  minister.    Most  of  the 


388 


young  generation  1  had  christened.  I  could  easily 
swell  this  letter  with  incidents,  but  I  forbear.  One 
thing  only  I  may  be  permitted  to  record,  and  that 
for  the  honour  of  human  nature.  All  that  ought  to 
have  been  remembered  by  my  former  people  in  my 
favour,  was  remembered.  All  that  in  those  days  of 
inexperience,  of  untamed  youth  and  temperament, 
related  to  me,  which  I  could  have  wished  forgotten? 
seemed  to  have  been  completely  consigned  to  oblivi- 
on. In  my  feebleness,  in  the  traces  of  disease,  and 
suffering,  and  travel,  and  sultry  and  sickly  climate, 
worn  so  visibly  into  my  countenance,  they  saw  re- 
turned to  them  one,  who  had  long  been,  in  their  hum- 
ble annals,  a  personage  of  history,  and  who  was 
now  greeted  as  one  who  had  come  back  from  the 
grave.  One  burst  of  affectionate  remembrance  was 
manifested  by  the  whole  people.  I  felt  painfully, 
that  in  wandering  from  that  rustic,  but  feeling  peo- 
ple, I  had  wandered  from  home.  This  excitement, 
so  many  recollections,  alternately  delightful  and  pain- 
ful, stories  of  the  living,  the  suffering,  and  the  dead, 
the  necessity  of  conversing  w7ith  so  many,  soon  re- 
newed my  indisposition,  and  I  was  compelled  to  has- 
ten away.  The  remembrance  of  this  visit,  and  of 
the  associations  called  up  by  it,  are  registered  too 
deeply  in  my  memory,  ever  to  be  forgotton. 

In  this  interior  region  I  discovered  much  alteration 
and  change  for  the  better ;  improved  farms,  in- 
creased cultivation,  new  and  good  houses,  and  one 
change,  which  to  me  was  an  omen  of  any  thing,  rath- 
er than  good.  In  most  of  the  villages  there  were 
spires  of  two  churches,  where  there  used  to  be  but 
one,  and  where  but  one  was  needed.    I  returned  to 


389 


Salem  by  East  Chelmsford.  This  place  struck  me 
with  more  surprise,  than  any  I  had  yet  seen.  I  used 
often  to  travel  that  way,  and  there  were  but  one  or 
two  houses,  barren  pine  woods,  vocal  only  with  the 
scream  of  blue-jays.  Now  an  extended  town  opened 
upon  my  view.  I  had,  for  many  miles  back,  heard 
the  explosions  of  the  labourers  blasting  their  rocks, 
like  the  repeated  discharges  of  artillery.  An  hun- 
dred buildings,  we  were  told,  were  going  up.  There 
was  one  fine  church  of  stone,  others  of  wood,  and  the 
huge  factories  were  ranged,  block  beyond  block. 
Newspapers  were  printed  here.  Articles  of  all  sorts 
for  sale,  were  puffed  in  the  usual  style.  The  clank 
of  forging  machinery  rung  in  my  ears,  and  there  were 
the  noise,  confusion,  and  clatter,  of  an  incipient  Ba- 
bel. The  mansion  of  the  superintendent  seemed  in 
princely  style.  I  have  yet  seen  no  town,  whose 
recent  growth  can  compare  with  this.  Pawtucket 
and  Waltham  are  very  great  recent  establishments. 
So,  I  am  told,  is  Dover,  in  New  Hampshire.  But 
they  all  fall  far  behind  this  place,  in  every  point  of 
view. 

There  is  not  a  doubt  in  my  mind,  that  this  new  de- 
velopement  of  the  resources  of  the  country,  together 
with  the  increased  facilities  of  travelling,  the  aug- 
mented calls  for  expenditure,  and  temptations  to  it, 
the  greater  value  of  money  in  procuring  what  was 
but  luxury  at  first,  but  which  has  now  become  neces- 
sary, have  furnished  new  excitements  to  avarice. 
You  can  perceive  in  New  England,  that  the  wits  of 
the  people  are  doubly  sharpened  in  all  the  arts  of 
money-getting.  Have  we  not  to  fear,  that  this  rage 
for  travelling,  this  manufacturing  and  money-getting 


390 


impulse,  and  the  new  modes  of  reasoning  and  acting, 
will  overturn  your  puritan  institutions  ?  New  En- 
gland founded  her  empire  of  industry  and  opinion, 
not  in  natural,  but  moral  resources,  in  her  ancient 
habits,  and  her  ancient  strictness,  her  schools,  her 
economy  and  industry,  her  stable  and  perennial  hab- 
its of  worship.  Should  these  be  changed,  as  I  much 
fear  this  new  order  of  things  is  changing  them,  it  will 
then  be  written  upon  the  tablet  of  her  forsaken  tem- 
ples, "  the  glory  is  departed." 

One  commencing  improvement  in  the  country  is 
worthy  of  all  praise.  You  are  beginning  to  build, 
not  only  churches,  and  factories,  and  mansions,  but 
common  houses,  and  cottages,  of  your  granite,  which 
you  possess  in  profusion.  It  is  wonderful,  that  a 
people,  in  intellect  so  much  in  advance  of  the  Ger- 
mans of  the  middle  states,  and  in  view  of  their  no- 
ble stone  houses  and  barns,  should  have  continued, 
age  after  age,  to  have  thought  of  building  nothing 
more  permanent,  than  houses  of  shingles,  clap-boards, 
and  paint,  when  the  very  circumstance  of  the  incum- 
brance of  the  rocks  on  the  surface,  called  for  some 
place,  where  they  might  be  disposed  of  out  of  the 
way.  Had  this  been  an  universal  custom  a  hundred 
years  ago,  millions  of  dollars  of  permanent  property 
would  be  now  on  your  soil,  to  be  transmitted  to  the 
generations  to  come.  I  am  a  true  son  of  New  En- 
gland. 1  shall  love  her  to  the  last,  and  I  shall  ear- 
nestly wish,  that  she  may  retain  all  her  ancient  in- 
stitutions, that  are  not  absolutely  out  of  relation  with 
the  spirit  of  the  age ;  that  every  particle  of  sweat, 
and  every  blow  of  labour  there,  may  count  for  pos- 
terity, and  that  her  granite  dwellings  may  be  sym- 


391 

bols  of  the  perpetuity  of  those  good  old  ways,  in 
which  we  were  reared,  and  which  have  made  that 
sterile  and  chilly  region,  the  envy  and  the  glory  of 
all  lands. 

You  will  not  have  forgotten  the  delightful  trip 
which  we  made  together  to  Saratoga  springs.  You 
cannot  but  remember  the  delightful  evening,  when 
the  steam-boat  that  carried  us,  rounded  Point  Ju- 
dith. Together  we  remarked  the  wonderful  vari- 
ety of  character,  costume,  manners,  and  conversation, 
which  are  witnessed  in  those  vessels.  There  were 
crowded  together  fine  ladies,  beaux,  the  simple,  the 
affected,  the  strutting,  all  watching  their  several 
opportunities  for  display.  There  was  the  terrible 
French  Colonel,  with  his  prodigious  mustachios,  and 
his  fierce  and  malignant  sneer.  There,  too,  was  the 
good  old  lady  from  the  West,  my  sister  traveller,  so 
earnestly  wishing  an  introduction  to  the  French  Colo- 
nel. She  was  describing  New  England,  its  men, 
manners,  land  and  water,  its  nature  and  art,  for  the 
amusement  of  the  southern  and  western  people,  and 
was  inquiring  of  us,  if  the  water,  on  which  we  were 
wafted,  between  Providence  and  Newport,  was  salt 
or  fresh.  Together  we  explored  and  gazed  upon  the 
American  Tyre,  New  York.  We  threw  ourselves  in- 
to the  ascending  current  of  life,  that  was  setting 
from  the  city  towards  the  springs.  Our  own  steam- 
boat was  crowded.  All  that  we  passed,  ascending 
or  returning,  were  equally  so.  We  could  compare 
the  moving  multitudes  to  nothing,  but  the  flight  and 
departure  of  clouds  of  gregarious  birds.  You  had 
heard  the  assertion,  that  amidst  all  this  mass,  the  in- 
dividuals, distinctly  contemplated,  showed  in  their 


392 

countenance,  manner,  and  air,  a  distinct  impress  of 
their  nation,  climate,  pursuits,  and  even  the  general 
workings  of  the  mind,  and  the  passions.  We  had  an 
opportunity  to  bring  this  assertion  in  many  instances 
to  the  test  of  experiment.  We  never  mistook  the 
German  for  the  Frenchman,  the  inhabitant  of  the 
South  for  him  of  the  North,  the  morose  for  the  so- 
cial, nor  the  stupid  for  the  intelligent.  In  every  case 
of  trial,  we  found  on  inquiry,  and  in  conversation, 
our  anticipations  upon  these  subjects  fully  verified. 
Not  one  in  a  thousand  but  what  carries  about  him  the 
sign,  the  index,  of  what  is  for  disposal  within. 

Even  at  the  distance  of  time  and  place,  in  which 
I  am  writing,  I  recur  with  delight  to  the  remem- 
brance of  the  enthusiasm,  with  which  you  surveyed 
the  grand  and  varied  elevations  on  North  River,  its 
sublime  scenery,  the  rich  cultivation,  and  the  embow- 
ered mansions  in  the  distance,  the  beautiful  nature 
that  surrounded  us,  and  the  mildness  of  the  delight- 
ful season,  and  the  overhanging  sky.  Such  pleasures, 
so  enjoyed  with  a  friend,  are  twice  enjoyed  in  the  re- 
membrance. At  Albany,  we  enjoyed  the  "  rus  in  op- 
pido,"  of  the  seats  of  Kane  and  Rensselaer,  the  soli- 
tude, the  pine  forest,  the  repose,  and  range  for  the 
lovers  of  covered  walks  and  wild  woods,  in  the  midst 
of  a  town,  as  much  for  the  time  being,  perhaps,  as 
the  owners  themselves.  On  the  canal  we  saw  for 
ourselves,  the  achievements  of  labour  and  art,  of  which 
we  had  heard  so  much.  This  grand  work  naturally 
excites  a  feeling  of  sublimity,  when  we  compare  it 
with  the  infancy  of  our  country,  with  the  fresh  re- 
gion, through  which  it  stretches  its  long  line,  but  a 
short  time  since  a  wilderness,  and  on  the  banks  of 


393 


which  towns  and  villages  start  up,  as  if  by  enchant- 
ment. We  were  carried  together  over  the  wide,  rap- 
id, and  precipitous  Mohawk,  sailing  far  above  the 
rush  of  its  waters  in  their  rocky  bed.  We  sailed 
along  this  river  in  the  air.  Other  boats  were  cross- 
ing our  path,  and  we  could  mutually  look  down  upon 
the  foam  of  the  ancient  river,  rolling  along  its  waters 
under  the  river  upon  which  we  were  moving.  When 
we  saw  the  canal  crossing  the  Mohawk,  we  admitted 
that  nothing  seems  impossible  to  the  union  of  intel- 
lectual and  physical  power. 

You  have  not  forgotton,  I  dare  say,  the  neat  and 
light  boat,  in  which  we  moved  so  leisurely  upon  the 
canal.  We  saw  a  table  spread,  but  no  visible  means 
of  preparing  dinner.  You  remember  the  anxiety  and 
impatience  of  some  of  our  hungry  ones.  But  all 
in  good  time,  we  moored  for  a  moment  beside  the 
good  ship,  "  Betsy  Cook,"  quietly  stationed  in  a  notch 
in  the  canal.  She  opened  her  window,  and  in  three 
minutes  gave  us  ample  supplies.  We  thanked  her, 
went  on,  and  dined  to  the  content  of  all. 

The  town  at  Saratoga  springs  is  one  of  a  hundred 
of  the  growth  of  but  a  few  past  years.  There  are 
now  a  continued  street,  and  spacious  buildings,  where, 
at  the  time  I  was  last  there,  the  wind  played  in  the 
tops  of  the  pines.  This  seems  to  be  the  great  centre 
of  American  fashionable  travel.  Here,  I  apprehend, 
is  to  be  seen  the  fairest  sample  of  the  better  class 
through  the  United  States.  Here  we  see  them  as 
they  are.  At  home,  they  are  g»aduated  to  their  cir- 
cle. Self-restraint  and  the  forms  of  society  keep 
the  workings  of  nature  in  the  sanctuary  from  being 
visible  in  the  countenance  and  the  manner.  Here 
50  , 


394 


the  circle  is  new.  The  old  restraints  are  thrown 
away,  and  in  the  necessity  of  a  new  modification 
and  adjustment  of  the  passions  and  feelings,  the  in- 
ward nature  peeps  out,  and  is  caught  in  the  fact. 
Here  you  see  what  is  going  on  in  the  microcosm. 
What  bustle,  and  display,  and  expense,  and  frivolity ! 
How  evident  it  is,  that  man  is  of  some  account  to  him- 
self, if  to  no  other  person  !  Here  there  is  brought,  full 
in  your  view,  the  great  change,  which  the  American 
character  has  recently  undergone.  A  lover  of  the 
country  cannot  but  regret  to  see,  that  we  are  making 
such  rapid  strides  in  extravagance  and  luxury.  But 
the  downward  progress  at  least  seems  a  pleasant  one. 
Every  one  in  chase  of  pleasure  seems  ashamed  to  ac- 
knowledge, that  he  cannot  run  her  down.  All  affect 
to  be  happy.  Here  you  may  meet  with  delightful  as- 
sociates from  every  region  of  the  Union.  A  painful 
appendage  to  most  of  these  transient  but  pleasant  in- 
timacies is  the  reflection,  that  you  meet,  are  pleased 
with  each  other,  part  with  regret,  and  can  expect  to 
meet  no  more  on  the  earth. 

And  such,  my  dear  friend,  in  fact,  are  all  human  ties. 
Feeble  as  I  was,  and  without  the  expectation  of  ever 
regaining  my  health,  I  bless  God,  that  I  had  enough  of 
comfort  to  enjoy  the  extensive  excursion,  which  we 
took  together.  Our  country  is  no  longer  the  wooden 
one,  which  it  was  in  our  early  days.  It  is  great  al- 
ready, and  may  it  be  happy.  What  will  it  be  in  half 
a  century  to  come?  For  myself,  I  shall  not  forget 
the  last  pleasant  summer — pleasant  even  under  all  my 
endurances.  I  have  two  ways  to  look  for  enjoyment, 
forward  to  a  better  country,  in  hope,  and  backward  in 
treasured  and  pleasant  remembrances ;  and  there  is  not 
a  brighter  spot  in  my  past  existence,  than  the  past  sum- 


395 


mer.  The  mellow  satisfactions  of  people,  who  re- 
flect, as  well  as  feel,  which  have  been  sobered  by  vi- 
cissitude, time  and  care,  are  more  pleasant  in  the  re- 
collection, than  the  evanescent  gayeties  of  youth.  In 
the  hope  that  you,  also,  will  look  back,  not  without 
some  satisfaction,  upon  your  wanderings  with  your  in- 
valid friend,  and  the  kindness  and  care,  which  you 
exerted  in  his  behalf,  I  wish  you  an  affectionate  fare- 
well. 

THE  END* 


4 


